


Devoured [Art]

by PaopuNova



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A ridiculously indulgent AU, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Red Riding Hood AU, and chocobos, and swordfights, insurmountable mix of fluff and angst, loosely, mentions of self harm, reclaiming thrones and being gay, self deprecation, theres a red hood and a wolf, unavoidable prophecy, undercover gay prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaopuNova/pseuds/PaopuNova
Summary: Amidst the confusion of two countries finally becoming one through a royal wedding for the ages, Prompto Argentum is tomb raiding. When Daemons swarm the capital of Gralea and take the lives of hundreds of citizens, including King Regis of Lucis, Prompto is monster hunting in the tomb of the 4th imperial concubine of Tenebraean king Anielos Nox Fleuret. When Lady Lunafreya forces Noctis and his loyal retainers to flee, warping them a great distance away from the chaos, Prompto is .... actually minding his own damn business.************As of Ch. 9..."He felt the weight of the Zu statue pressing in on his thoughts. Collecting summon stones wasn’t a necessity. Turning them over to Dave to be redistributed into the hands of the Nifilian people wasn’t a necessity either."Those with the power to act, should act". A man’s words echoed in his ears. "Those who can fight, should fight."Prompto accepted a small black bag of coins as payment, a trifle of the true worth of those stones, and the man’s speech finished as a black jacket flashed in Prompto’s mind, the memory still haunting him."Those who can protect, should protect."





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //shrug emoji// I just wanted to write a story based off of FFXV and Red Riding Hood Slipped in thanks to a song.

[ ](http://ibb.co/gs3gMw)

 

Prompto had seen these blue flowers many times.

It was when Lady Lunafreya spoke to the masses, in their dreams, such as that very moment. Always, Lady Luna stood in the center of a sea of sylleblossoms that stretched as far as the mind could fathom in all directions with the hints of ruins outlined among early morning mist and fog, an immaculate figure caressed in ivory and gold. Her hair fell in soft, sweeping wisps and plaited back neatly into the halo of a braid, reminding him of paintings he’d seen of the old gods wearing crowns of light when he was a kid. She always stood perfectly still as she addressed the sleeping people of Niflheim, but he’d never once considered her stiff. Prompto wasn’t sure on the specifics of that magic —after all, it wasn’t like they were all falling asleep at the same time— but somehow, every few weeks he’d find himself here, in this sunlit field, with a princess.

It was every man’s dream, really. Didn’t need any magic to conjure this fantasy. Prompto was a romantic at heart.

Everything was the same now, too. He had the usual clarity that came with being awake in a dream. There Luna was, statuesque and regal with the softest smile on her face. It was the kind of tender expression that made him _want_ to listen, rather than be compelled to listen by magic. Sometimes, he even felt tempted to talk to her, but inside he recognized that this was in essence the same kind of event where royalty stood at the edge of a palace balcony and languished words on a crowd, and that no matter what he might or might not say, they would never reach her.

He was just Prompto, after all.

And yet, today, her eyes seemed to see him. _See_ him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d even say there were tears in them.

 _Sweet Shiva, she_ is _crying_ , Prompto realized, and with a start he rushed forward through the waving fronds of flowers. It was like wading through a river, a waist-deep rush of movement that surprised him, coming from a field of flowers. Then again that was the nature of dreams, and this one was adamant about not letting him reach the princess.

With his first step, the sky blackened into the darkest night, and the gentle breeze and impression of summer all but vanished. A gale burst so fiercely from across the plain, the sylleblossoms trembled and began to scatter. Tendrils of smoke swirled in the air, and the char of a ruinous world blackened his lungs, choked him until his eyes were clouded with tears and he struggled for clean air. With each increasingly unsure step the darkness rose up in waves, though Lady Luna remained untouched, the sole light amidst the encroaching darkness. Behind her, swathed in shadows, Prompto _felt_ the intent of a creature who wanted nothing more than to snuff out the light.

Somehow, this once-pleasant dream had become one of his worst terrors, and if it had been just him, he would have just fought to wake up. Somehow, he made it to where Luna was instead, stopping just short of her with every breath sapping his energy to the point of collapsing, on one knee, surrounded by endless blue. A strangled, flustered noise escaped him as he realized she was looking at him, pale eyelashes flickering, damp with tears unspent, and casting shadows along her pale cheeks. It was the steely, undaunted and unafraid gaze that caught him off guard. She fixed him with a warm, but impassible stare, and for the first time in years, Prompto felt safe.

He saw it from his place there on the ground. A wound as long as his forearm bloomed crimson across her stomach, neat and straight and oh so fatal.

With the world unravelling itself all around her Lady Lunafreya spoke to him. “My dearest Prompto, I’m afraid I will need your help.”


	2. Unbidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah Thanks for all of the support! I was really floored at the response I received for an unbeta'd prologue of only 668 words. Truly inspiring.
> 
> Ill be periodically changing PoVs as I set up the story. This one is from our dear Noctis, who more or less just needs a good hug.

All in all, Niflheim’s countryside wasn’t so bad. It was no Lucis, and Noctis struggled to comprehend how the Niffs managed in such an unforgiving landscape, but it certainly held its perks. _Charmingly perilous_ , Ignis had told him the morning before their journey, nearly three days ago, and Noctis saw now what exactly he meant. Where Lucis was a country of arid climates and staggering plateaus, usually interlaced with large, sinewy powerlines devised to harness the natural magic found in elemental stone deposits, Niflheim was beautifully cold, all jagged black mountains and evergreen forests that, when the prince peered up from inside the train carriage, blocked out the sky. The capital city of Gralea itself was nestled in the basin of those staggering peaks, an obsidian crown of crevices that protected the city from blizzards to battalions on all sides, save for the entrance.

Outside the Gralean woodlands blurred by like dark smog, a promise of shadows and undefined mysteries that Noctis would have marveled at as a kid. Now, he was just glad to not be out there, in that blistering cold where the famed leopard coeurls prowled unchecked. Inside the train he was warm, completely content to nap while his advisor and Shield sat opposite him in the car, dressed to the nines in slightly more decorative Crownsguard fatigues.

But _oh,_ Gladio couldn’t be content with the small luxuries of velvet cushions and fire crystals to temper the climate of compartment. He wanted to _camp_ , make _his_ fire from _twigs,_ and Noctis was certain that if their long-awaited visit to Gralea weren’t of literal, cosmic importance, the Shield would have demanded that they involve themselves in an impromptu training session, fulfilled only by pitching a tent and praying that the royal entourage didn’t get eaten in their sleep by wolves. Gladio had told Iggy, in the most wondrous of tones, how he’d enjoy the challenge of wrestling with a coeurl, and Iggy in return had fixed him with the most decidedly unimpressed stare Noctis had ever seen. Noctis, over the years, had been the recipient of many an unimpressed stare.

“I’m just saying, Iggy, that coeurl meat would probably go really well in that soup you’re always making me.” Gladio mused innocently.

“We are here to escort His Majesty and Noct to Gralea for the wedding of a millennia, and you’re drooling over soup.” Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose, right beneath his glasses.

“Your soup,” Gladio supplied, unhelpfully.

Iggy looked amused by the flattery. “Nonetheless, we are not going camping. Did you forget we’re still in enemy territory until the treaties are signed? Couerls and bandersnatches are the least of the dangers we’d face out there.”

“Other than the patriotic Niffs, the daemon threat is all too real. Lucis is protected with the Crystal of Night’s power reservoirs,” Noctis added, brushing his hair back from his face with a yawn. The decorative chains on his shoulder pauldron jingled with the movement. “But it’s not like we’re safe on our own.”

Beasts were one thing, but daemons were a menace all their own. Supernatural forces of evil gods incarnate, destroying everything in their wake once the sun recedes. Noctis had very brief dealings with them as a child, on the border of Lucis and Niflheim when he’d been on visit to a local fort, and the scar crossing his lower back ached with the ghost of pain from that time. He’d strayed too far, too late in the evening, from his father’s side and past the crystal shields. Noctis had reaped the rewards of being too curious. His father had made it to him in time, with the Crystal of Night burning like a dying star from the ring on his finger. Noctis hadn’t been able to do much more than watch in awe as his father banished the creatures, before Noctis was whisked away for treatment. “Dad’s got the ring, but he’s never been one for camping. I don’t think we could convince him to come with us into the great unknown, Gladio.”

There was a knock on the door of the cabin, and Cor stuck his head in. He was an attractive man dressed in simple black fatigues, and unlike the three of them and his father’s retainers who kept their weapons stored away into the security of the Armiger, Cor kept his weapon brandished at all times; an impossibly long blade with an imposing reach that had Noctis balking, and he was sure that the Niflheim royal guards would make sure to look at it twice.

Iggy and Gladio made efforts to show the Marshall some kind of respect, but the man waved dismissively in their direction, skipping the formalities in favor of addressing Noctis directly. “Your Highness, I believe your father would like a word with you. Just you,” He added when Iggy made a move to follow. The advisor resigned himself back to his seat without a word.

“I’ll be right back,” Noctis reassured, and as he left the cabin he heard Gladio resume his persuasion in a low rumbling tone the Shield usually reserved for Ignis alone.

Cor led him forward, but even if he hadn't Noctis knew where his father waited. His father Regis preferred to sit in the public area, albeit by himself, where he could look out the wide open windows on both sides. The whole train was reserved for the royal party, and Noctis had picked a cabin at random to pull away from the retainers, coordinators, and the handful of Kingsglaive Drautos had insisted on bringing along for protection. Noctis had felt that their numbers were a little excessive, especially when practically half of the Crownsguard littered the length of the train like frigid Shiva sculptures, feet slightly apart with arms bent behind them. Their eyes followed Noctis, unbidden but not unpleasant, the only part of them that seemed to move.

He found King Regis seated and leaning unceremoniously against a window. He looked exhausted in ways Noctis had only imagined. Despite that, he was as regal as he’d always been, though he had more gray hair than in Noctis’s most fond memories. His crown, a stylized coronet of obsidian fashioned to look like dragons horns, pushed his graying hair back from his slate blue eyes and wrinkled face. His hands were gloved in black leather, trimmed in gold like the rest of his dressings. Noctis’s clothing was designed after his father’s, and he wondered if it didn’t make him look like the lesser, more incompetent version of his father, but he stowed that thought away when his father looked up at him at his approach.

Beside him, in a seat across the aisle, Gladio's father Clarus, dressed in light gray armor, and High Commander Drautos turned their heads when Noctis joined them. Drautos was all stark and gaunt faced with eyes that cut through Noctis with thinly veiled disapproval. He was also perhaps the only man in Lucis who could get away with such a blatant look for the future king without losing his head, not that Gladio hadn’t off-handedly suggested it. Gladio was not one for those who lacked respect for station, and unlike Ignis, he unfortunately had the temperament to let that be known amongst his peers. It was all right though. Noctis knew that Gladio only meant to protect his future king’s honor.

Noctis couldn’t blame Drautos for his sentiments, honestly speaking. His father had done great things, and Noctis had done … well, nothing.

“Commander, Clarus, I’d like to speak alone with my son, if you don’t mind. We’re approaching Gralea soon, and I fear we’ll be too busy to share words once we arrive.” He smiled a little, crow’s feet appearing at the edge of his eyes even as Drautos rose to his feet. As Clarus moved by he squeezed Noctis's shoulder. The glaives followed after a moment of hard silence with Cor in tow, and only when the two of them were left did Regis continue on, rubbing his forehead. “You would think he’d lighten up on vacation.”

Noctis mad a low musing noise. “I know. Even Iggy broke down and managed a smile this morning, though that might have had more to do with his cup of coffee than anything.” After listening to his father’s responding laughter, Noctis sunk further into his seat. “Drautos doesn’t approve. Of me, I mean.”

King Regis fixed his son with a critical look, but Noctis only slid his gaze away, muttering, “He’s not the only one. Sometimes, I think it’s only Ignis who thinks I’m ready to become King. I know I don’t.”

“My son, few princes are ever ready to become king.”

“ _You_ were,” Noctis pressed.

King Regis tilted his head, an empathetic smile on his face. “On the contrary. I wasn’t even supposed to _be_ king. My older brother succumbed to illness and suddenly, I was thrust onto the throne a week before my eighteenth birthday. You wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter, seeing this crown sliding down to my ears. The damn thing still doesn’t fit sometimes.”

Noctis laughed, quietly. He recalled a moment in his childhood where he’d filched the crown in question from his father’s room once, and attempted to place it on his head. He felt that the boy in the mirror then, dwarfed with the weight of the stone circlet, was no more a king than the one on his way to be married.

Having not lightened Noctis’s mood enough, King Regis reached forward and covered Noctis’s knee with his hand. “Noctis. You will wed Princess Lunafreya and become King, and I will step down with all the pride and love you deserve. That alone is enough to make you a King.”

Noctis made a pained noise. “And if Lucian citizens disagree with you?”

King Regis reclined and folded his hands over his knee, ever the image of immaculate regalia. “The best part of being king is realizing what citizens may think is best isn’t always so. It will be your job to decide what is best for your people, your family, and your friends. That’s what a king does, and _you_ will be king, Noctis.”

It was time to escape from the subject. “Is this what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Not particularly. It seemed that this is what _you_ wanted to speak to _me_ about,” There was a mischievous look to the old man’s eyes, and Noctis pouted into his hand. “I just wanted to speak with you before we arrive. The truth is as I said to Drautos; we’ll immediately begin preparations for the treaty ceremony. For the next week until your wedding day arrives I’m sure you and your retainers will be positively laden with work pleasing politicians, viewing the sights, being fitted by royal tailors ‒none of which young Scientia will be impressed with, I’m sure‒ and who knows whatever else. I just wanted to spend a moment with you before you grow up too fast. I also have a wedding gift.”

That piqued Noctis’s interest for the briefest of moments until he realized with an uneasy, bittersweet gasp, that his father was removing the leather glove from his right hand. Beneath the blackened leather, his father’s pale hands trembled ever so slightly as inky, mottled spots on his fingers sprawled up towards his wrist and disappeared into his decorated sleeve, where Noctis knew the scars climbed up all the way to his father’s shoulder. Thin rivulets of white lightning bolts crossed like angry, artistic scars, originating from where the Ring of the Lucii was seated. The Crystal of Night, as silent and empty as midnight, winked up at Noctis like the eye of a celestial beast, brightened only like the star from his childhood when its power was called upon.

Noctis looked between the stone and his father’s somber, serene expression, and realized that he was serious. A butterfly of panic fluttered in his lungs before he squashed it as King Regis quietly removed the ring from his finger.

Without a word, King Regis placed the ring into Noctis’s hand, closing his hand over it until its weight registered. Then, he replaced his gloves, returning to his pristine visage with one less weight on his shoulders.

Noctis wanted to say something ‒anything‒ to argue, tell his father that this… this was a _mistake._ It was hitting him like a behemoth, suddenly with no mercy, that he was on his way to be _married_. He was about to be _king._

But his father smiled at him then, and the words died in his throat, to settle in the pit of his stomach as the decidedly cold, queasy sensation that was his self-esteem. He was going to be king. He had to be ‒for his people, his family, and his friends.

Outside, the jagged Gralean Mountains rose into view, a ring of snow-crusted blades, and Noctis swallowed as he realized he only had a week to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the queen of italics, and I'm sorry for that.
> 
> Don't be afraid to comment. I love reading what you guys think or feel about the story.
> 
> Im also on tumblr @paopunova if you'd like to yell at me as the story progresses.


	3. Stones and Slime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was some difficult shit to write. Sorry if it drags but I needed to get some of the exposition out of the way so the plot can actually work.
> 
> Also, warning. Blood and guts mentioned. Dead things and bones.

“I’m going to have snot-cicles,” Prompto sneezed miserably, and his coeurl flicked her ears at him, only pretending to be interested in his complaints as she inspected the darkened entrance of the cave. “No, really, Parti. I'll have to snuggle extra hard to stay warm!” the hunter threatened.

She tilted her flat, white face towards him, fixing him with wide blue eyes. She loved the word snuggle, and Prompto used it often enough because it always held a promise, but there was no time for that now. They were going _treasure_ _hunting_.

Here, framed only by the gaping black maw of the tomb's entrance and the crystalline spears of ice dripping from the ceilings, she looked like a snow sculpture. Parti was young, about nine years old, and had only just recently grown into her black stripes with a thick, sweeping white coat of fluff. They were ghostly black marks on her face and back legs, for now, but in a few more years they'd settle much darker in her adult coat. She was raring to go, already an expert on cave diving while Prompto excelled in falling on his ass when the floor glazed over.

“Alright, Alright.” He placed his lantern down on the ground, his red cloak billowing forward as he bent over to inspect her front paw. “Let me tighten your bandages first.”

Parti lifted her front leg when Prompto’s hand rested on her elbow and placed it on his knee, a practiced movement that never failed to remind Prompto just how _big_ she really was. From her elbow down to what he would call her wrist, gray bandages had come loose. He could just see the disfiguring scars peeking out from beneath as the cloth unraveled. It only took him a few careful moments, kneeling on the ice, to completely retie the ribbons. “There. Now it won’t fall off.”

Parti made an appreciative noise, rubbing her whiskers along his arm, where his own bandages were tightly secured. Neither of them needed these bandages anymore, not really, but Parti became impossibly anxious when her scars showed. Prompto wasn’t really sure what a coeurl cared for vanity, but he was no stranger to self-esteem issues and sympathized with her. He smoothed his hand over her fluffy face, kissing her curved ears. “Ready?”

She practically bounded away with excitement, nearly knocking him over as she disappeared into the depths of the dungeon.  Swallowing hard, Prompto put his hand on his gun, holstered to his thigh, and steeled himself for the troubles within.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It had taken Prompto three weeks to convince Sania to tell him where this dungeon hid itself. He had failed so miserably in his last mission for her she’d been reluctant to do him any more favors until he’d groveled on the cobblestone floor of her little shop. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to gather the materials she needed, it was just …she always, _always,_ asked him to retrieve the _grossest_ _shit ever._  Witches needed that gross shit, it seemed. One time she’d asked for the eyes of hobgoblins, and he’d wretched for a week anytime he looked someone in the eyes. The next time, it had been forceps of Arachne. The fight had quickly devolved into a pissing match between the beast and Parti, seeing who could turn the cave into a fucking lightning storm the fastest while Prom cowered anywhere that wasn’t crusted with ice, and that was one of the _tamest_ quests of Prompto’s young life. So when she’d asked him to find the bladder of a bussemand, a tough type of demon on a good day who always came in packs, Prompto had understandably forgotten her request.

Now? Now Prompto was after one of Sania’s favorites. A fucking frog.

Not just any frog, though. A Frostbite Gigantoad, a rare breed of monster that thrived in the coldest times of the Niflheim winters, and Prompto had to collect its tongue.

He wasn’t looking forward to it at all. But there was a little comfort in knowing there was a gigantoad thriving down here. That meant that this particular maze of stone and ice wouldn’t be a _claustrophobic_ maze of stone and ice.

Behind Prompto, the cave swallowed him up. Some sunlight filtered in through breaks in the roof, snow coating the narrow, slick floor and walls with a deceptive innocence, but before him the path was sinister and difficult to discern. He mentally noted that the snow was a bit disturbed, but that was mostly from Parti’s tail dragging around as she moved. Parti was already inspecting the rocks on the sides of the walls, nosing here and there as Prompto lit his lantern, her long whiskers twisting like ribbons as she moved. The darkness pushed back a bit as the magic stones burst to life in the glass case with only a word on his part, casting a fitting blue light. He would have preferred fire stones, but he’d run out just making the trip to the cave and only had a few glow stones left. He’d have to be careful with them until they could make it back to town. Optimistically, he hoped to find some fire stones somewhere in the crypts, but that was a fantasy rather than a prediction.

One could never tell what treasures were hiding in dungeons. They all looked the same from the outside, like gates to the underworld, but always at their ends lay the most precious of treasures.

Summoning Stones.

Prompto set his mouth into a grim line and shook out his arms. _That’s right. This is what we’re here for_.

Prompto whistled low, and Parti responded by falling back into step with him. Occasionally, he felt her brush against him, and sometimes he leaned against her when he felt less graceful. Beneath him ice and gravel crunched as they steadily descended lower. The light from the roof was no more, and his blue lantern only casted a small visible distance in front of him.

By now, he should have heard the scraping of claws on stone. Daemons lived where the light couldn’t touch, and he’d scuffled enough by now to develop a sort of sixth sense for their presence, though he figured it was more like muscle memory or paranoia.

It smelled of wet stone, and that was probably what was irritating Prompto the most about the situation. These tombs were home to creatures of hell, and always had a specific smell of hell to them, like the odor of the charred remains of a forest after a blaze. It was a dampened, earthy smell of death, one that never matched with the gray world of the caves.

It smelled only like wet stone. There were no daemons here.

But there were always daemons, and that told Prompto that someone, or something, had come in recently and driven the daemons out.

His hand flexed over his gun with a bit of apprehension. Could have been anyone looking for shelter from the snow storm two days ago. Could be wannabe tomb raiders chasing legends, like him. Sania wasn’t the only witch with the powers of divination, and Prompto was more than aware of old maps and accounts leading to untold treasure any adventurer with a shred of confidence could follow.

Could be the army, too, come to protect what was technically royal property.

Astrals, he hoped not.

Tombs were always in caves, and caves were always labyrinthine. Parti and he spent more time wandering corners and dead ends with no payout than they did worrying about the dark. Occasionally he could tell by the stagnation on the air which way was appropriate to go, but after a while his nose went numb and he had to rely on his memory and Parti’s good sense to navigate.

It was perhaps an hour of walking through twists and turns before he started to feel more on track. In front of him, the ground split, a jagged scar separating the floor. He peered down and saw that it the darkness was staggeringly unaffected by the light. The only way forward was along the narrow footholds of a slide of stone somewhat fashioned into steps to the left of the crevice, but he could see their destination from here, at least. _A gigantoad could just cling to the walls and avoid the fall_ , Prompto thought grimly as he tethered his lantern to his belt. He wrapped his cloak up around his arms and had Parti go first, whistling twice.

He gripped the wall as he followed her, laughing breathlessly. Parti kept her tail on his calf as she moved forward, only moving when she felt him do the same, until they were both safely on the other side of the hole. He gave her ears light appreciative scratches and took the lantern back into his hand.

He held it up, his breath coming out in white clouds now. The air was significantly colder, each intake sharp and chilling as he looked around the first room of the cave. Stalactites threatened him from the ceiling, some having already broken and shattered across the floor. Crude stone furniture was carved out of the walls, with brass sconces attached to the walls, their oil too old for use, unfortunately. He found old books, too old and faded to read, and some small metal trinkets and gears that he pocketed. Typical stuff, though why anyone would make a reception area for a tomb he didn’t know. The daemons had made nasty work of the long-forgotten tapestries and linens in the corner. Across the way, a stone door lay broken next to what Prompto assumed would be a long hallway to the antechamber.

Well, they were making progress. The stone here was now carved, shaped, more resembling of dungeons. Still no sense of daemons but he found the presence of bats and other crawlers whenever he looked hard enough. Prompto had run across flexitusks in tombs before, and had suspicions that those gouges in the door frame were from those tusks, or something similar.

Sure enough, he saw Parti’s ears swivel forward and her body drop low. He stepped back just as she crept forward, one step. Two.

Then, she sprung into the doorway and was swallowed by the darkness. There was a flash and snap of lightning as her whiskers struck whatever beast she’d found, followed by a strangled whimper. When Prompto came closer, he found her with a dead havocfang, a small one, pressed into the floor, gray fur sizzling and jaw slack. It had teeth like a nightmare, and Prompto briefly considered collecting the tusks, but Parti wasn’t finished clearing out the narrow connecting hallway. Two more ravenous canines rushed forward from the other room, just past where Prompto could see them, their ornaments aiming to spear the coeurl through.

Parti just sat on the floor, looking deceptively tame with her sleek form taking up the space between Prompto and the creatures, her whiskers glittering with the promise of the most painful death. The poor things had probably never seen a coeurl in their short lives, and ran head first into the choke of a room and subsequently crumpled when her whiskers whipped forward.

It was quick.

“Brutal, Parti.” He grimaced, and she looked over her shoulder at him again, eyes blinking slowly. He stepped over the carcasses, making a face as he covered his nose with his hood. “But you are so pretty. Yes, you are,” He pushed his hands into her fluff, earning a musical chirp. “Any other nasties up ahead?”

She didn’t seem too worried, so he whistled twice again to get her moving forward.

The next room was wider, much wider, and he could see why the havocfangs had taken up residency here. This room positively sprawled, spiraling down with broken walkways, and the roof, looming high overhead had breaks that let in just the faintest glimpses of sunlight. Small plant life burst from the cracks in the ground, next to a small stream of water that wound through and beneath stone bridges and archways. It was more ostentatious than the reception area, with hanging tapestries that swayed gently help from the breeze, and what looked like gold lining decorated the railings and moldings. Prompto was grateful for the fresh air, and didn't mind the sting of cold so much now.

“T-That’s big enough for a gigantoad, alright.” He eyed the sunlight coming in through the ceiling. He just kept praying that the toad wasn't there and for once Sania was mistaken.“And anything else unfortunate enough to fall in.”

Sure enough, there were bones of creatures picked clean just below the hole, and Prompto felt the blood drain from his face.

Parti didn’t give him any warnings so Prompto was sure that the room was safe enough to explore, though the signs of whoever had come in before him we're more obvious. Without snow, it was difficult to see what kind of intruders they were, and when he did see something worrisome he was more inclined to assume it was an animal than the army. Hell, tomb raider was more likely, and he was probably worrying for nothing. They usually holed up, set up camp with fire pits as they waited for the unsuspecting tomb raider, and Prompto found none of that. Anything resembling explorers or army had cleared out by then.

So he got to work, humming quietly to himself to steady his nerves. He found a few, precious fire stones fashioned into the designs of a door to the far eastern wall. He inspected the rooms one by one tentatively, with Parti usually watching from outside.

He found useless things, mostly. He stuffed every stone he could find into his pack however, even the dullest, most opaque of them. He passed over silver candlestick holders, shining chalices, and untouched silks. They’d be too heavy and take up too much room. The raiders, he finally decided, had probably thought the same thing. There was evidence of gold and silver cameos having been recently pried out of the furniture of what he figured was a fine lady’s resting place. Her final rest, a marble coffin with her ethereal image carved into it, had been embossed with pearls, but he only knew that because they’d failed to remove the gray ones on a few places like the hard angle of her earrings.

Pearls were useless to him, so he too ignored them.

He went through six of these rooms, clockwise from the entrance, before he realized Parti had found her way to the opposite end of the room.

There, the opulent statue of the most prized concubine in history, lay tilted up, face to the sun. She was beautiful, like she was born of Shiva's own court, with a dress that spilled rivers over her pedestal and into the floor.

Parti rubbed her face on the edge of the stone monument, and Prompto looked past her to the treasure room, glowing with a smattering of magic crystals that gave the impression a summer night's sky. The doors rose up to the ceiling and were no doubt as thick with stone as Parti was long.

This is what had stopped the tomb robbers, no doubt. The hand-print glowing on the front of the door was the only way to get into the Royal tombs of Niflheim, and not just any thief could sneak in.

Prompto held his breath and put his right arm up, pressing his fingers into the glowing silhouette of a hand just a smidgen larger than his own. He figured it was the protective hand of the concubine's lover, and the stone was warm against his palm.

“Go ahead and open up. Please.” Prompto urged, his voice cracking. When nothing responded, he let out a low whine and tried again, more forcefully. “Let me in.”

His change in tone seemed to convince the door. It trembled beneath his palm, and soon the floor vibrated with the weight of the doors scraping on rock and permafrost. Prompto yelped as the force of it shook the ceiling and sent stalactites hurtling down at his feet. He ducked inside the threshold to avoid being turned into a Prompto-kebab.

Parti watched him floundering about from her place beside the statue of the lady, and if Prompto didn’t know any better, he saw sheer amusement in her eyes.

“It’s not funny!” He whined, bunching up in his cloak. “Ugh, I hate my job.”

Inside, it was a different world. Hanging the lantern over the unused sconce by the door, Prompto saw pristine silks draped like water over chairs and dressers, as if a lady who'd gone through her whole wardrobe without finding a single wearable thing had tossed all her precious clothing about in a rush. Her vanity was absolutely blinding to look at, so many precious stones of all sizes and cuts just littered there. Her coffin was nothing to scoff at either, the stone statue outside but a shadow of grace and beauty to the one resting inside. The real stone casing was adorned with diamonds and pearls, nestled in the soft spilling curls of her hair like dew drops, glinting like starlight as the light as his lantern glanced across her pale features. She was marble, he knew, but she looked so celestially beautiful that he imagined her breathing, just asleep and waiting for some earthly prince to kiss her awake.

He came forward and leaned over her face, his breath condensing on her cheek. Then, Prompto took out his knife and began to pry statuettes out of their fixtures.

These were what he'd come for. These perfectly cut crystals seated in her hair and placed like guardians on the slab beneath her, shaped like animals. He found six, all differently colored, but all similar in size. One or two of them could sit comfortably cradled in his palm. The first five, two garnet wolves, a feral crocodile fashioned of emerald, and two sapphire spiracorns, were normal enough. The feral crocodile was an uncommon summon by his standards, but any stone at all was more than rare enough.

The real prize was the sixth and final statuette. It was a pink diamond, and power glimmered beneath the breastbone of an extensively detailed, painstakingly designed Zu. The wings were wild and outstretched with tiny etchings in every feather, the little body of the beast curled in a pounce.

The stone pulsed with heat as he held it. It _glared_ at him, daring him to try and summon it into reality, and Prompto's hands shook as he thought about it.

He heard the angry hissing then. Looking out at Parti, he saw a great shadow pass over the statue, and Parti turned he whole body to face it. He could just barely see the opening in the ceiling was now clogged with a murky, foul-smelling shadow, sending the room into darkness for the briefest of moments, just before a loud _thud_ echoed into the room.

Prompto got moving. Whipping around gave him just enough time to watch the frostbite gigantoad toss its whole weight into his cat. She disappeared over the edge of the dais, followed by a soft splash as she hit the cold creek, while the giant toad now faced Prompto, hissing like a steaming kettle. The creature’s skin shone slick with slime, ice crystals punctuating the movements of its shoulders and spine as it hunkered down. Prompto had to force himself not to throw up breakfast as the odor washed over him.

“Oh, shit,” Prompto hissed, fumbling to stuff the stones in his pack. It was more gigantic than he’d thought.

Just as he was about to shove the ornery zu statuette into his pack, the toad's tongue shot out and hit Prompto with the force of door ram, knocking the wind out of him with a desperately gasp. The slimy, disgusting appendage clung to him fiercely, locked his arms by his side and pulled at his clothing, and all at once he stumbled forward as the gigantoad ripped him towards it’s gaping mouth.

Prompto had to think fast.

With one hand still clutching the Zu pushing against the tongue, Prompto forced enough room for his other hand to yank his gun from its holster. He didn’t even have time to blink as he found himself face to face with a sharp row of teeth. He didn’t even know frogs _had_ teeth.

He pressed the barrel of the gun against the tongue, and pulled the trigger.

At this close of a range, the sound was nearly deafening, but the moment he heard the toad scream and the sticky muscle go slack, he dug his heels into the floor and heaved away from the monster, hitting the ground at a roll and righting himself from the other side of the statue.

The beast’s voice echoed around the chasm, blood slapping against the floor in hot, black bursts as the tongue withdrew. He felt a swell of triumph…

Until the flash of a hot pink gem stuck in the creature’s mucus glinted once before being swallowed up.

Prompto looked at his empty hand. Then he looked back at the very pissed-off frog, black blood oozing between knife-sharp teeth. Without wasting a breath, he pointed and shot, firing off twice. He watched the toad recoil as the bullets exploded, one shattering against an ice block in its shoulder and the other just below its eye. The damage could have been better, he admitted to himself. It didn’t even seem to faze it, only making the toad even angrier as pain flooded all of its reason. It bunched up its muscles and sprung at Prompto, who barely managed to move out of the way in time. Then he was scrambling over the edge of the dais as the gigantoad came dangerously close to taking his head off, falling face first into the rushing stream with a shout.

Prompto hit the ground _hard_ , nearly screaming as the glacially cold stream soaked into his clothing, the gigantoad jumping down to join him, sending a wave of frosted water directly into his face. He clawed at the earth behind him, eyes darting between Parti, who had just returned to her feet at the edge of his vision, the stream rushing over the massive webbed feet stomping his way, and the stalactite aiming at them from the ceiling. He couldn’t see a future where he won with just his gun, and for a painstakingly stupid moment, he considered summoning one of the creatures he’d just rescued from the tomb.

He saw Parti’s whiskers begin to charge, and he had a thought.

He had to get out of the water. If he timed it just right…

He kicked at the ground. The toad stalked forward, gushing blood and breathing out huge seam clouds of pungent breath. Just a few more steps and-

 Prompto made a single, high pitched whistle just as he cleared the water, and watched as the coeurl whipped her whiskers forward.

They just barely missed the toad, but drew against the water enough to send currents of white hot pain coursing through the stream and up into the monster, paralyzing it with a seizure of movements that almost made Prompto feel sympathy.

No time for that though. He rolled onto his back, aimed straight up at the stalactite, and fired.

He watched the bullet bloom, heard the crack of stone, and covered his face as the stone spike came hurtling down. Then the toad gave out a strangled croaking noise as the pointed stone impaled it through, and Prompto looked up as the sensations of victory crashed over him, watching the last spasms of a dying toad give out.

And then, all at once, the gigantoad spilled its guts out, and quite literally washed Prompto with the contents of its stomach.

When he managed to stop throwing up himself, hauling his bruised body out of guck and slime _,_ Prompto picked up the pretty zu statue, groaned as the chill settled in, and sighed with exhaustion as Parti came and licked his face clean. He wrapped his arms over her shoulders and said. “G _rossest shit ever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. I really tried with that fight with the frog. y'all almost didn't get a fight at all, because I was so fed up with myself.
> 
> Scream at me @paopunova on Tumblr


	4. Gralea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been a bit busy, so Sorry! But I'm back now and should have the chapter after this up soon too. That should get our boys together. Just needed to get a few words out of me in order to get back into the swing of things.

Noctis thought Gralea was a beautiful city, but he couldn’t stand the cold. It was rarely cold in Lucis, with the winter being mild at best. Standing on the open-air station platform, with black steel bowing overhead into ice-coated archways, Noctis looked out onto the city that sprawled around him. It was exactly as he’d imagined it to be with cold cobblestone roads and streaked gray buildings, but with Ignis as his teacher on all things Niff there had been no room for Noctis’s imagination to embellish anything. Machinery and magic melded around them, lacing the walkways with currents of magic runes that kept those on track with their surroundings, and firestone braziers every corner or so for those suffering like Noct to warm themselves. Common folk had eased up to the edge of the station, held at bay by the military entourage that had come to greet the royal party from Lucis, with some familiar beasts watching from nearby. Summoned beasts, as it were; a power that Lucis had never known and mastered only by Niflheim.

Regis smiled a bit and Noctis’s heart clenched, beneath where the ring of kings rested on a chain below his shirt. He hadn’t had the nerve to wear it yet.

Behind him, Ignis and Cor were instructing the Crownsguard to unload the train. The residual heat of the machine pressed on Noctis’s back as he came forward to stand with his father, bundled in a black fur coat. Gladio spoke in low tones with his own father as the few Kingsglaive guards lined up behind the small royal retinue, all the fun in his expressive face having been replaced with work.  Noctis recognized the stocky love-struck Libertus beside him, his blunt but affectionate partner Crowe leaning casually against a lamppost, and Galahdian hero Nyx, who brushed snow out of Crowe’s messy brown bun. Noctis couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever seen one without the other two in tow, and it was usually when they were all up to no good and getting hauled into Clarus’s office for reprimand. When he caught Nyx’s eye, the Galahdian winked at him before falling into rest with his hands behind his back.

Noctis grinned to himself as he turned forward, feeling a bit more relaxed. It was like he’d brought a bit of home to Gralea.

“Astrals above,” Noctis heard Clarus cough into his hand. “Is that who I think it is? He’s practically as tall as Gladiolus.”

A man Noctis only remembered as a sniveling boy from his childhood strode up the platform steps, white coats laced with lavender and steel accents highlighted only by his mismatched eyes and his rapier. A dark gray wolfhound, meticulously groomed with a set of discolored eyes to match his master, kept to the man’s left side where his arm had long been missing. Now a short purple cloak covered that side of him.

Silver hair pushed back by a laurel of white ivory, Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret himself had come to greet them, looking down the bridge of his nose at each of the Lucian party. Behind him, Gladio muttered something unpleasant.

“Welcome to Gralea, Your Majesty,” Ravus tilted his head to Regis, then to Noctis, “Prince Noctis. I trust the journey was a pleasant one. Not even the snowstorm a few days ago can deter the Lucis Caelums, I see.” There was a grimace to his expression, and Noctis could have imagined the disappointment he heard.

It took Noctis a beat too long to realize he was being addressed, and not his father. “Y-yes, very pleasant. We’re… We’re glad to be here, Prince Ravus.” Noctis surprised himself with how true the words felt. He _was_ glad to be here. Nervous, unprepared, yes, but… this was important. This would be an end to so much suffering and bloodshed. He wasn’t much of a war prince, like Ravus, but he could at least play the political chess piece that would put his people’s fears to rest. “I wasn’t ready for the cold, though.”

“Yes, well,” Ravus’s perpetual frown deepened, “Neither were we. We’ve brought carriages to take you to the palace. It is only just a bit further.”

Noctis kicked himself inside as Ravus turned heel. Of course he’d be the one to blunder and touch the most distressful subject any Niff could handle straight off the train. Niflheim hadn’t always been a tundra, and its sudden devastation in the last thirty years had done nothing but directly influence the suffering of Ravus’s people. Famine had taken to the land when the agriculture had not, and unfamiliar daemons had surged up from the depths of hell with the rise of desolation and despair, or so Iggy had tried to explain. Most of the war had been brought about due to a lack of resources, resources Lucis had always kept in plenty.

“Why don’t you shove your foot in your mouth, while you’re at it, Noct,” Ignis sighed surreptitiously, “Perhaps then we’ll make it through this week to see your Ascension intact, hmm?”

“Im _trying,”_ Noctis hissed through clenched teeth, following Iggy down to one of the three white carriages waiting in the streets below. His father, Drautos, and Clarus were already piling into the first one, with Ravus. Noctis marked the second one for his own, skittish around the horses that waited impatiently to pull. The third carriage he watched Iggy load with their luggage, piles of boxes of gifts his advisor had painstakingly spent weeks poured over books on Tenebraean propriety and high court. Noctis would be the most unmemorable gift the Lucians would present to Lady Lunafreya, if Ignis had _anything_ to say on the matter.

Noctis had a gift of his own for Lunafreya, heavy in the pocket of his pants. Years ago, when their families had met in secret, He’d met Ravus and Luna briefly in the gardens of a small villa just on the edge of Lucis and the wastelands of Niflheim. The man before Noctis now was a shadow of his former childish whimsy, weighed down by responsibility and power that Noctis had never quite taken to himself. Luna… Luna had been a light for Noctis, then. She’d given him so much to laugh about, to look forward to and care for after his mother had passed.

Safely inside the carriage with Ignis and Gladio across from him, Nyx Ulric riding on the back of the stage coach, Noctis sighed and pulled out the small, mint green fox statuette.

_“You mustn’t lose it, Noct. This is a spirit, a good spirit, that will make all your nightmares disappear.” Luna’s smiling face, cropped by Niflheim’s signature golden locks, beamed up at Noct from beneath the wall of roses. Behind her, Ravus was preoccupied with forcing a flower crown together, not paying attention as Luna pressed the small stone fox into Noct’s hand._

_“What is it?” Noct had turned it in his hands, inspecting the ruby horn on its forehead, its large bat-like ears. “Foxes in Lucis don’t have horns.”_

_Luna had giggled then. “It’s a carbuncle. Let it be a light when you find yourself surrounded by darkness.”_

Noctis rubbed his thumb back and forth over the fox’s back. He almost dropped it when the carriage lurched forward, the sound of the road crunching beneath the weight of the wagon.

“Excited to see Lady Lunafreya, then, are you?” Ignis asked, and Gladio smiled wickedly. Noctis’s cheeks flamed scarlet red as he pocketed the stone fox once more out of sight. “It’s been, what, fifteen years since you’ve seen her?”

“Can’t believe we’ve been in a war for fifteen years,” Gladio grunted, pushing his hair back into the standard military mohawk, the small braids beaded and just gently touching his shoulders. He practically dwarfed the compartment with his bulk. Ignis, though much slimmer than the body guard, was not exactly the slim pickings. They were both blindingly handsome, distractions at the worst of times. “It’ll finally be over, soon as princess here signs the papers and marries… the other, prettier princess. If she looks anything like Ravus, you’ll be set for life.”

Noctis gave him a droll stare. “I just want Luna to be all right. Ravus is… well. He was always pretty stoic, but I remember him smiling once. Just… thinking maybe she might not be the girl I remember.”

“Well, if she’s as chipper as our esteemed escort, you’ll just have to spend the rest of your natural lives making her smile.” Ignis looked up through the window, and Noctis followed his gaze to the edge of the city. Cut into the black stone of the mountains was the palace, beautifully carved with arching bridges and heavenly spires. The gleam of gold at the top of the of one such turret hurt Noctis’s eyes. Bells, swinging softly to alert the castle of their arrival no doubt. Moments later their sound rang out, making his ribcage rattle with something more than nerves. The carriages crossed a bridge and beneath the open mouth of the portcullis. Inside the gates at last, Noctis was greeted with a much better view of the inner courtyard. It was more like a hedge-maze garden with some buildings, clearly repurposed long ago to accommodate the staggering military presence, a place out of season with blooming plum trees and dogwoods despite the falling snow and downcast sky. It was a fantastic little world that seemed more likely to have sprung from stone and the river that passed between the mountain cliffs that to have been fashioned by mortal hands. Across from him Ignis was in a state of awe, though the only sign of that was the slightly raised eyebrows and flutter of eyelashes.

Everywhere he looked, Noctis saw soldiers. It was a waste that the sheer number of military steel smothered out the majestic foliage, and Noctis, for a moment, felt like he’d had his breath snuffed out too. They did not look happy to see them, and though they did not directly brandish their weapons, Noctis and Gladio both made note of how ready the soldiers were to respond.

  
  


And then he saw her, and his breath was gone for a whole different reason.

She was so beautiful it hurt. Luna stood with her hands folded serenely in front of her, dressed in blacks and gold. Noctis couldn’t help his smile, seeing her dressed in his own family’s colors. When the carriage came closer and finally pulled to a stop beneath the dais, he saw that her plaited hair was woven with a lavender ribbon in solidarity for her own family, but the night outweighed the day clearly. To her sides her ladies-in-waiting giggled nervously behind a short blonde man in dark burgundy armor with a barely controlled expression of rage that Noctis could only _guess_ was Commodore Loqi Tummelt, and to the right of her was someone Noctis knew all too well.

Imperial Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. He wasn’t the sole member of the High Court of Niflheim, but his was the only voice that carried. He was a frightful man with a smile that was sleazy at the best of times, and charming at the worst. Noctis had been there for the negotiation. His father and Ardyn had sat across from each other, fully counselled on both sides of the table, and drawn up terms of cease-fire and Noctis’s own wedding plans. He hadn’t taken part in the talks, but he still had this distinct feeling of oil coating his throat when he looked at the red-haired man. Like any misspoken word would have lit a fire Noctis couldn’t control then, and even more so now after his blunder with Ravus.

Well, thank the astrals Ignis Scientia was there to keep that from happening.

“Be mindful, Noct.” Ignis was warning him already as he climbed out of the carriage to hold the door open for his prince. “We are always in the company of our enemies.”

“Always in the company of our…” Noctis repeated, trying to wrestle his inner prince into power just long enough to survive this week, but his words tapered out as he finally found himself in the presence of Princess Lunafreya, “…enemies.”

Luna’s princess smile broke into a genuine one as Noctis reached the base of the wide staircase. “Prince Noctis. I’ve waited so long. You’ve made it just in time.”

Confused, Noctis looked between Ignis and Gladio beside him, seeing them bow over their arms in respect. “In time for what, Luna—Princess?”

She made to answer him, but was cut short by Ardyn’s drawling interjection. “Why, for dinner of course.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dinners in Niflheim were the same as Lucis. That meant it was a lot of boring chatter between the controlling parties, namely King Regis and Drautos with Ardyn and Ravus. The man in red armor was indeed Loqi Tummelt, and kept quiet even though he kept glancing up at Cor, who moved almost lazily on the edge of the shadows of the room. Noctis had to keep a straight, uninterested expression through what had to be the longest two hours of his life, with the politics of flowered lies and exaggerations filling most of the conversation. Across the table Luna spoke up periodically, her blue eyes flashing beneath the light of the crystal sconces and the fireplace. Ignis and Gladio had taken to a position of guarding at the edge of the room, having to mingle with the Luna’s guards out of some respect for the marriage.

Noctis followed suit, speaking only when spoken too. He didn’t slip up, couldn’t allow it. Ignis had coached him well enough on the ride over, and if it meant escaping this painfully political setup sooner, he’d pretend to be a tonberry if it would help.

The prince thought that he’d definitely be able to talk to Luna after dinner, but she was apologetically whisked away by her servants and council before he could even get a word in edgewise.

“Ah, love at first sight is it, young prince?” Ardyn too easily laid a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. He forced himself to keep still, seem unaffected, while Gladio bristled in the background.

Sudden pain burst near his heart, and Noctis winced. Gladio strode forward with a growl, but Noctis waved his hand down near his hip, barely noticeable, as the pain subsided just as quickly as it had come. Gladio pulled back with Iggy.

“Are you alright, Prince Noctis?” Ardyn inquired, a look of concern pressing his eyebrows together into a fine line.

“I-I’m fine.” After a moment, Noctis nodded, moving so that Ardyn had to drop his hand. “Yes. Thank you, Chancellor. It seems I’m more tired than I thought.”

If Ardyn had noticed anything odd, it didn’t show on his face. The older man pursed his lips in thought. “I know you are eager to get to know your fiancée, but I assure you all in good time. For now, you should rest. Retire to your rooms for the evening. Tomorrow, she will be all yours.”

His father spoke up then, leaning on his cane by the entrance to the hallway. A couple of maids waited to lead the Lucians to their chambers for the night. “A good idea, Noct. We can’t rush things. I’m sure Luna is feeling just as overwhelmed as you are by all of this.”

Tiredly, Noctis bid their company goodnight, and turned to see his father eyeing him curiously. “I’m okay. I’m just tired. Breakfast in the morning?” He asked.

Regis smiled to his son, and over his shoulder Drautos scowled. “Sleep well. Ignis, Gladio.” He nodded to each of his son’s guard before disappearing down a marble corridor with his council and a servant. Noctis and his friends did the same, finding their quarters filled with their luggage, fine and secluded in one of the keep towers with a small balcony, facing the city and what Noctis was _pretty sure_ was the east. He’d be getting an awfully bright morning.

As soon as they were alone, Noctis groaned, undignified and feeling small. “Help me out of these stupid clothes, Ignis. Please,” He added in afterthought.

Ignis obliged, having helped Noctis get into those stupid clothes earlier that morning. “What was that in the hallway? Did the chancellor do something?”

“Don’t know.” He shook himself out of his gilded jacket, unceremoniously tossing it on the edge of the bed with a grunt. He pulled his gloves off next and rolled his shoulders, the weight having literally been lifted from him.

He pulled at the neck of his tunic and peered down his chest, gasping before he tossed the shirt too. Ignis made an indignant noise then— “I may be your chamberlain, but this is beyond spoiled, Noct”— before he saw what exactly had Noctis wincing.

Noctis didn’t have many scars. He hadn’t fought in the war, hadn’t lost any limbs like Ravus or earned any new features on his face like Gladiolus. He still had a few from being a rebellious kid, but the burn scar, a perfect ring of blistered white skin just over his heart, was completely new. The Ring of the Lucii, the perpetrator, hung innocuously from the chain just as before.

“He gave you the ring?” Gladio asked incredulously, baring his teeth, “And you’re not _wearing it?_ What are you waiting for, princess? It’s not just some hunk of metal.”

Noctis put his hands on his forehead. “I’m not ready to wear it.”

Ignis came forward and pressed his gloved fingers to Noctis’s flat chest. His touch was cold against the fevered skin, and Noctis made a strangled noise as he got too close to the burn. “It burned him, Gladio. Perhaps it isn’t the time to be wearing it.”

“Maybe its burning him because he _isn’t_ wearing it. Think of that, Iggy?”

Noctis glared at him. “I’m not _ready_ , Gladio. I’ll wear it when I… When I really am King, okay?”

Gladio crossed his arms before plopping down onto a chaise lounge, which Noctis had no doubt would be claimed for the rest of their time in Gralea. “It burns you again, wear it. It’s your responsibility. You’re gonna be king in a week, Noct. Can’t keep it waiting. At least ask your dad about it in the morning, okay? We need to know if it was Ardyn or just... magic.”

Noctis clenched a hand around the ring, which was stone cold against his clammy palm. Ignis murmured something about getting a salve from one of their bags, but Noctis could hardly focus at this point. Noctis knew he needed to wear it. He knew better than anyone, especially Gladio. The ring whispered low in his bones rather than his ears, of all the powers that were his by right. He felt a sort of incompleteness that strangled his lungs that would, if he only slipped the ring over his finger, be filled. It terrified him to feel that calling, and wondered if his father had felt the same when he was eighteen and being crowned, or if he felt this hollowness now that he had parted ways with the stone.

With his head pounding from the long trip, and the frustration of being voiceless all evening despite the automatic conversation he’d supplied at dinner, everything was more than he could bear right then. All he wanted was to sleep, but even that had to wait until Ignis was satisfied with his doctoring. He dressed down into sleep clothes and took the carbuncle into his hand, desperately needing a bit of untroubled sleep.

He threw himself down onto the bed with little to no thought afterwards, thinking of better times on the horizon. Just one more week and he’d be forced into the responsibilities. He’d get used to them. He’d be king soon enough, one more evening of unburdened sleep wouldn’t hurt.

Noctis closed his eyes and, eventually, dreamt of golden braids and blue eyes beneath a twilight sky.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments! Even the ones I haven't replied to. I will get to them soon!
> 
> Scream at me on tumblr @paopunova! I'd love to discuss this Au or take one-shot prompt(o)s (i'd actually really enjoy it)


	5. A Long Day, and Longer Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% informative exposition. There's probably not a single world in this chapter that doesn't specifically have a purpose. I /am/ creating an Au from scratch, here so I do have to apologize that I have to spend so much time on my world building, though I''m personally having fun with it.
> 
> Shout out to Myssy for helping me get through this chapter and my love Silver. As well as everyone who did word sprints with me from the ffxv fic and artist server. Youre the real reason this chapter got out so quickly.

Evening sunlight drifted down from the clouds above, and a gentle breeze blew through Noctis's hair. The young prince thought briefly for a moment that he could smell the salt of the sea on the wind, but here in this dream he saw only the fields of sylleblossoms and an endless lake far below, reflecting the clear twilight sky with a myriad of stars scattered across its smooth face. A day-lit moon hung above them, almost near fullness. Aged and crumbling columns of varying heights emerged from beneath the lake waters, six in a circular ring while smaller, shorter columns fanned out around them in a sort of starburst pattern.

This was where Luna usually came to meet him, but today she wasn't alone. The princess stood at the lakes edge, and from Noctis's place at the top of the hill he could see that her two familiars Pryna and Umbra were playing at the waters' edge. It hadn't occurred to him earlier, but now he realized that the Fleuret family had always preferred dog familiars. He could just barely remember the previous Oracle's beast, a dog bigger than Noctis was tall with a coat of thick brown fur that the prince was sure he’d sink into and never return from. He'd let Noctis ride around on his back when he'd been too tired to walk on account of his healing injuries.

"Luna!" He called down, but she didn't face him until he'd pushed down the hill and arrived at her side. The prince was glad to see he wasn't in his sleep clothes, because he doubted his trousers would have survived the trip through the sylleblossoms, who tugged with red thorns at his legs as he passed through them.

 She tilted her head a little to acknowledge his presence, but her eyes were somewhere deep in the still reflection on the pool's surface. Noctis had seen her like this before many times. Every once in a while they'd meet in their dreams like this and talk, though they had made it almost a point to avoid talking of things going on within their countries. They’re lives were already oppressive enough in reality, and Noctis was glad to not take any of that into his dreams.

If he were being truthful, though, Noctis had been too scared to let anything slip. It wasn't that he didn't trust Luna to keep secrets, but they both knew that the war was costing lives on both sides, and if any plans were revealed he knew Luna wouldn’t stand by and let her people knowingly walk into ambushes and traps on the battlefield. Noctis would have done the same thing had the tables been reversed.

Noctis wouldn't have been able to live with himself with the guilt, either, watching plans fall apart at his father's war table. So, they made an agreement to enjoy each other’s company, and only that. Luna's ability to dream walk opened Noctis up to moments of sunlight in the dark storm that was his childhood; His mother’s death, his father's absence and the shadow that loomed over Noctis, the years of overbearing lessons, but most importantly, the isolation. He'd had Ignis and Gladio, and he was still thankful for their company, but the truth of it was that they were both obligated to be his confidants, his protectors. No one he'd met had chosen to be with him for _him_ , until Luna had arrived in a dream with a deck of cards and a patio table set up beneath a bright day, right on this very hill.

Luna was the sun, warm and casting her light over everything. She gave him life, and now this marriage was about to bind her to him in the same way that Ignis and Gladio were bound to follow him; through obligation to the grave.

He waited for a while, watching her peer into the lake. When he sat back on the grass Pryna and Umbra crawled into his lap. "What do you see? If you're trying to sneak a peek at the wedding, I'd like to file a formal complaint. It's not fair."

Luna was quiet for a moment, face completely hidden by a screen of hair. Then she laughed, her shoulders rolling forward once. "You look so handsome at the wedding, though. I can't help but watch." Ah, so she _had_  been looking to the future. She turned to Noctis then, her dress flowering out around her as she placed herself at his side, wincing when the sylleblossom thorns pricked her. He wasn't quite sure how this magic worked, but they had both felt pain and discomfort here, thought it was muted from reality. "I'm so glad to finally meet you here Noctis. Well, not here, but in the real world. You’re taller than I imagined you’d be."

Noctis's eyebrows pushed together, and Pryna licked his nose in response. "We can’t all be like Ravus, Luna.”

 She laughed, her smile curving. Luna looked down to where Umbra pushed against her hands. "Thank goodness for that. I couldn’t imagine marrying a man like my brother. He’s a good man, but…” her shoulders lifted up. “He’s much too rigid and military minded. He doesn’t like this treaty very much at all. Seems it doesn’t address enough of Niflheim’s problems…”

“Like what?”

“Well, the food shortages for starters. Niflheim is so vast, but due to the previous regime’s mismanagement of summoning stones and the weather being so disastrous, there is a sort of widespread famine as of late. And with famine comes disease, and despair… which of course leads to…”

“The daemons,” Noctis finished for her. “I’m sorry, Luna. I know it’s been tough for you, but I’m here now. I don’t have much power yet, but when I’m king I’ll be able to do something about it.” He thought to the ring pressed against him in the waking realm, and a new wave of anxiety rippled through him. The Crystal of Night held great powers he was sure, but he’d actually have to wear it to know and command them.

“How I want this, Noctis. To be... like this," She looked around them to the beauty of it all, not even a hint of the terrible winter Niflheim had suffered for so long. "Here with you, no cares or concerns. I know its selfish of me, but just once I wish I weren’t the princess… "

"Luna," Noctis pushed Pryna away to take her hands into his own, drawing her gaze back to him with a soft sound of surprise. "It will be like this. You and I... I don't know how, but we'll fix this together. Promise,” he pressed his forehead to hers, in a way that they’d done for years. “Somehow, we’ll make this right if it kills me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and she sighed. “I believe you, Noctis. That’s what scares me.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next morning, Noctis sat at the empty dining table for perhaps a half hour before it occurred to him, with a numbing sort of clarity, that his father was not coming to breakfast. His proof came in the form of Nyx, hair mussed from sleep though the rest of his uniform was pressed clean and neat. “I’m sorry, Prince. Your father’s not feeling well this morning and wants to apologize. He hopes to be able to rest for the day and join you some other time.”

Noctis picked up a piece of toast and bit into it thoughtfully, pressing down his feelings like he’d trained himself to do so long ago. Ignis, standing with Gladio a few feet away, responded for him when he realized Noctis had no intention of answering. “How is he today, Nyx?”

Nyx’s face hardened for a moment into a mixed expression. “I only spoke with him briefly, but it seems to me it’s just a case of exhaustion, like his sleep did him no good, Iggy. I think he just needs to rest.”

Well that made two of them. Any dream-walking he took part in with Luna left him feeling drained the next day. Noctis sighed, and placed a hand soothingly over the burn spot on his chest. Seems like he’d have to wait a bit more to ask his questions.

He realized with a start that Nyx was still staring at him expectantly, not even bothering to hide his yawn, much to Ignis’s chagrin. “Oh, sorry. Thank you, Nyx. You’re free to go.”

The glaive nodded his head before taking a few steps backwards to the door. “Don’t look too down, your highness. You’re getting married soon, and it’d be rude to your beautiful bride for you to show up with frown lines.”

Noctis rolled his eyes as Nyx disappeared from view. More audibly, he groaned and slumped back in a very unprincely manner, Ignis and Gladio joining him at the table now that they weren’t waiting for the King to arrive. Gladio was already making his breakfast a mile high, and Ignis began to spread ulwaat jam over a croissant.

“He’s as lax as always,” his chamberlain murmured, eyes on the mountains outside of the arched windows behind them. “I wonder, does he act like that always or is it just because you let him get away with it Noct? It’s a wonder how he became titled a hero.”

His Shield snorted and cast a hand around to acknowledge the three of them sitting at the end of the table. “Like we’re ones to talk.”

“We’re Noct’s confidants, and royal ones at that. I believe it’s a bit different.”

Gladio shrugged in response, pointing his fork at Iggy. “I’m just saying. As soldiers go, Nyx outranks us. Glaives will kick Crownsgaurd ass any day of the week, royal blood or not.”

“You’re right. I must say we have quite the number of Glaives with us too. No doubt for precautionary measures with both you and your father here. Why, that’s the entirety of the Lucis Caelums.”

Noctis lifted his tea glass in a fake salute. “I’d rather have them here. Like this we’re prepared for anything, especially with Drautos and Cor on guard.  You saw those soldiers outside. We’re not welcome, probably still won’t be even after we sign the treaty. And the servants in the halls make it no secret that they don’t answer to those with dark hair. Not without one of the council members barking orders.”

Ignis hummed, his cup of coffee steaming up his glasses. “The chancellor’s hair is quite an unusual color, isn’t it? Not bright enough to be Niflheim in origin, nor dark enough to be Lucian, either.”

A rumble of amused laughter startled them, even Ignis, who nearly poured his coffee directly into his lap when his hands jumped.  Gladio was on his feet in an instant, a swell of power leeching away from Noctis towards his outstretched hand, where his broadsword threatened to form. He stopped when he saw the chancellor standing in the doorway, draped in sundering emeralds and black dress pants that made him seem impossibly taller than he’d seemed yesterday, standing beside Ravus. Chancellor Izunia had snuck up on them without making a sound. “Oh, my, I didn’t mean to scare you all. I just overheard you talking about me and couldn’t resist weighing in on the conversation.”

Ignis and Gladio exchanged uncomfortable telling glances between each other as Gladio returned to his seat. Noctis intervened, drawing the chancellor’s intensely amused scrutiny away from his friends. “We meant no disrespect.”

“Oh, none taken. I get it all the time, young prince.” Ardyn strode forward, his arms sweeping out as he spoke. He stood behind Noctis and leaned against one arm, draped around the top of the chair the prince sat in. “You’re right, dearest Ignis. Historically, red hair has been traced back to the days of Solheim, before the Grand Crystal was split apart by the gods and scattered across the world, along with the four kingdoms. It would seem that my dashingly good looks survived the test of time.”

Ignis ignored the obvious question of how the chancellor knew his name. “Most impressive indeed, if the legends are true.”

Even Noctis knew this story. Princes to peasants would know the story of Solheim, but Chancellor Izunia was determined to finish his explanation. “Most say that the Grand Crystal’s destruction caused cataclysmic destruction that almost brought humanity to extinction. The gods took pity on the men who remained, and blessed the leaders of the people at the time with a prophecy and the power to prosper again. The kingdom of Tenebrae would be led by the Oracles, the bridge between the spirits and the living, the seers of fate and bearers of prophecy. Accordo would be home to the Altar, where once the gods sat among men. Niflheim would be the kingdom of the earth, of the inhabitants of man who toiled alongside beast and prospered beneath the sun, and Lucis would come to rule the heavens with the power of kings, whose words could call the stars down from the sky and command mountains to move.”

“The Crystal of Night,” Gladio mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. “And Tenebrae holds Leviathan’s Trident, right?”

Ardyn’s eyes showed aged crow’s feet in response. “And there’s the Crystal of Day, though it’s been lost for centuries to Niflheim’s history. Not like we need it with all the summoning magic running amuck in the streets. It was not nearly as selective as the infamous Crystal of Night is when it bestows its power, or so I’m told. It’s quite astonishing, really, to have the Tenebraen Oracles seated upon the throne here, but we really have Lucis to thank for that.”

The Chancellor’s smile went thin, and Noctis realized the words for what they were. Truth, challenge, mockery. Beside him, Gladio tensed. If Noctis hadn’t known Gladiolus for his entire life, he would have probably, mistakenly, thought that his Shield was relaxed. But he knew better. He saw the tightness of the muscles in his shoulders, at the way his jaw clenched around his words. Noctis felt his own power swirling lazily around the man, waiting for the split-second Gladiolus called on it. Ardyn was treading dangerous waters now.

Noctis’s throat went dry as the memories of that time flashed through him. Niflheim soldiers storming the summer home where two royal families met, the Besithia crest waving arrogantly in the wind on weaponized standards. Queen Sylva’s life being extinguished before his eyes as Ravus and Luna were hauled away like prisoners.

That’s what they’d been then. Prisoners of circumstance, used by the previous Niflheim regime as a scapegoat and an excuse to start this whole war.

The Fleurets had come to a secret meeting to beg for Lucian help, to overthrow the Besithia house who’d done nothing but torment their people and drive the land into chaos. The Fleuret’s choice to meet with King Regis had been one out of desperate necessity, and the spark to start it all. The Emperor of Niflheim at the time Verstael told his people the Fleurets had been taken by Lucis, and rallied men from across the land to rescue them, blaming the lady Oracle’s death on Lucis. It had all been a convenient excuse, taking her life and leaving Luna and Ravus as the heads of the family, powerless to control their own fates, while two great countries finally found the excuses they needed to go to war with each other.

King Regis had decided then in the following weeks to carry out his obligation to Lady Sylva. Hoping that it would end the war quickly, he sent in an elite group of glaives to infiltrate the very palace they now all inhabited and, quite frankly, slaughtered the Besithia Family, thinking that their war hunger would not be missed and the land quieted without the lord to follow.

If only he’d known. The Besithias had been just one part of a rampant disease, and their destruction had only given way to others in the Niflheim Court to take over. Luna and Ravus became the young puppet rulers of the new council, and Noctis watched firsthand as the pressure and pains of it all broke Luna down day by day. To know she could only visit her people in their dreams and attempt to keep their spirits up, and Perhaps Noctis’s stalwart company, had been the only things keeping her own spirits high.

She’d had no power in court, but she could at least pretend that she did. She’d done her best to give her people hope and to keep the daemons at bay.

“Tenebrae had already become a territory of Niflheim by then. If anything happened to the royal family of Niflheim, it would only have been natural to put the Fleurets on the throne,” Ignis molded his words carefully so Noctis wouldn’t have to, having regained the Chancellor’s attention. “Lucian intervention or not.”

Ardyn shrugged his shoulders, his wine-colored hair drifting over his collar in waves. “That is true, I suppose. The political climate was so charged at the time, it would have been difficult to determine what had a higher chance of happening; the common rabble overthrowing the Besithias and beheading the entire royal family, or Lucian spies beating them to it.” Noctis’s grip tightened painfully around his tea cup, twisting around in his seat to better see Ardyn as he spoke. “But that’s all in the past now, isn’t it? Now we’re moving ahead. We’ll become a single great nation once more, just like the Grand Crystal and the Kingdoms were some two thousand years ago. Who knows, perhaps under your rule, prince Noctis, we might come to know the peace and prosperity of Solheim. I recommend holding back on any beheadings, though. Royal families fall so quickly these days.”

Something in the way that Ardyn said it, the slight acidity dripping in his all too cheerful words, set Noctis’s teeth on edge. He burned with it, knew that Ardyn mocked him with every word, and all Noctis could do was force a smile and accept the threat with good graces. “I’ll make sure to keep my head on straight.”

Ardyn’s lip twitched. “Well, gentlemen it has been enlightening but I must excuse myself. I have duties I must attend to if this treaty business is to work out.” Then the Chancellor bowed a bit over his arm and left the three Lucians as quietly as he’d come. Gladio finally completely relaxed in his seat, and Ignis let out the small breath he was holding, exchanging a glance with his young charge.

It might have been his imagination, but the ring of kings felt hot against his skin.

Noctis closed his eyes and sighed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Later that evening, Noctis stood on the balcony in his room, ragged from a long day. He’d been yanked down one hall for royal fitters and yanked into a different room to be grilled by the royal cooks. Needless to say Ignis was impressed by nothing, and all Noctis got out of it was a mind-numbing headache. He’d kept up his sword practice in the late evening down in the courtyard with Gladio, who’d insisted it was a strategic move rather than practice. All the soldiers who’d camped out in the outer buildings drifted to the edges of the ring and watched, with no less animosity now that the Lucians were openly flexing their strength in broad daylight. There was some fear to be seen when Noctis summoned his weapons from thin air, making it abundantly clear that he was never unarmed and very much a Lucian prince, who despite never having been on the battlefield was very in tune with his blades. Ravus, who’d been watching with Luna from the curving outer staircase of one of the keeps, barked out a threat so visceral it made daemons seem tame that caused Niflheim soldiers to scatter back to their posts. Luna waved apologetically when her brother wasn’t looking.

Seemed that someone wanted to keep him and Luna separated if at all possible. Ignis surmised it was probably due to old traditions of keeping the affianced apart until the wedding day, or more likely it was to keep Noctis’s budding powers away from the Oracles.

 _Good Luck with that_ , he thought bitterly, tipping back the glass of wine Ignis had poured for him as he leaned against the balcony railing. Fifteen years and a whole continent hadn’t kept him and Luna apart.

Inside his room, Ignis and Gladio were playing cards. He should have probably been in bed, considering the time, but an abundance of nervous energy kept him charged up and aggravated. Gladio had suggested a glass of wine to steady his nerves, but all it seemed to be doing was turn Noctis’s thoughts hazy. The wine warmed him to his core, deep and rich and tasting of red earth more than anything, and the heat of it caused Noctis to flush to his ears. He’d stepped outside for a moment of cool air, unlacing the ribbon at his throat. In hind-sight he probably should have undressed by then, but the energy escaped him with each passing sip.

A noise below him caught his attention. A soft murmur of voices so faint Noctis strained to make them out. Under the trembling branches of a plum tree, he could just barely make out the hard edged of Drautos in his armor glinting red under the moonlight. Odd for him to be armed at this time of night, but Noctis supposed even Drautos would be on patrol after fifteen years of war. Not even the talk of peace could convince that man to take a break. He couldn’t see who he was talking to, or hear the words being exchanged, but whoever it was on the receiving end better pray for divine intervention. He’d never personally been on the receiving end of Drautos’s ire, being the unimpressive prince, but Nyx and Libertus had told him horror stories that would make even Gladio blush.

“What is it, Noct?” Ignis asked him, not looking up from his cards.

Before the prince could answer, a distressed voice filtered through the doors, slightly louder than they probably meant for it to be. “Princess Lunafreya, you _cannot_ visit men in the middle of the night! Are you mad?”

“You seem to have no quarrel visiting me in the dead of night,” The princess tossed back effortlessly, “appearing like a ghost in my private wing.”

Noctis choked, the spice of the wine burning his nose as he coughed. Ignis quickly dropped what appeared to be the winning hand to pat Noctis’s back. Gladio rose partly in his seat, game forgotten.

“Hey, don’t make it sound so- that is not what... Astrals above-”

“Sir Nyx, I will do damn well what I please. We are in a hurry and I need to talk to Prince Noctis.” She responded. “Ask this glaive to step aside.”

Nyx let out a frustrated noise, and Noctis imagined how he must feel. Luna always seemed so dainty and fair until her stubborn streak reared its ugly head. It was one of the few things she shared with her intimidating older brother.  “Pelna, is he- is the prince awake?”

“If he isn’t, wake him,” Luna pressed.

Ignis and Gladio gave the recovering Noctis a quick, amused glance. Noctis managed to wave his hand and nod, pounding his chest with a closed fist in an attempt to breathe again. Gladio moved and open the door, revealing a confused and somewhat irritated glaive named Pelna, who’d been assigned to guard Noctis’s quarters through the night, Luna dressed in warm creamy wool and a sleep dress that reached her ankles, and a very embarrassed galahdian hero who seemed to be looking anywhere but his prince. Noctis didn’t even know Nyx could be embarrassed.

Luna made to push into the room, but Pelna held out an arm, surprising her. “No, glaive,” Noctis wiped his face and tried to calm the heat he felt there. He was unsure if it was caused by the wine or Luna’s soft appearance. “It’s okay. Keep the door open.”

Pelna lowered his arm, eyebrows drawn low as he stepped aside for her. Nyx hung back in the hallway as she came forward, stopping short of the table where the card game lay unattended to. She was much more upset that Noctis had originally thought, her fingers clenching around her wool shawl as she swiftly took a seat. Ignis stood and bowed respectfully. “What can we do for you, Princess? Is everything in order?”

“No- Well, yes, it is, but.” She bit her lip. “It won’t be soon. I’ve… spoken with Gentiana.”

He felt the room’s confusion, so Noctis explained. “A holy spirit. She helps Luna see the future, among other things. She only shows up when things are going south.”

Nyx and Pelna listened in from the door with doubt clear on their faces. As far as anyone knew, Lucian kings didn’t, couldn’t, commune with spirits. That’s what Oracles were for. He could see them trying to work out exactly how Noctis knew that, and he could see the light almost come on in Ignis’s eyes, but thankfully Luna continued before he had to explain how he’d been meeting the princess for years in his dreams.

“I knew something was odd,” Luna said, uncharacteristic dark smudges ringing her eyes. “I’ve been feeling it for days, months even, but I… I just can’t see anything. Everything is dark, hazy. She’s been visiting me but I can barely understand her. When I was resting earlier she came to me again, but all I could make out was that she wanted me to take you somewhere and that if I didn’t go right now, we’d all be in grave danger.” Luna put her face into her hands, working herself up with every word. “I can _feel_ it, Prince Noctis. Whatever it is keeping Gentiana and I apart is _here_ , in Gralea. I can almost taste it. I just… I don’t know what to do when I can’t see.”

Noctis reached out to take her hand, but she drew her hands away, eyes flickering around the room. He dropped his hand quickly, having forgotten just for a moment that they were still just prince and princess here.

“Okay. Okay, Princess.” He looked over to Ignis, who hesitated before nodding. No man in the room could deny a woman when she was so close to tears. “Where do we need to go?”

She sniffled. “Follow me to the treasure vaults. There’s something there that I need to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be nothing but action. I already have the artwork drawn for it. I would almost call it the end of Introduction, and FINALLY Prompto will meet with Noctis, Iggy, and Gladio.


	6. Treasured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: I Made Myssy Cry and Now You'll Cry Too
> 
> :') 
> 
> But a promise is a promise, and I have fulfilled.  
> Thanks to Myssy, my beta who had too much fun tearing this chapter to pieces.  
> I had artwork for this, but Noctis did his own thing and deviated from my outline, as well as the art. I'll post it sometime.

The castle had been quiet for the most part. 

They’d left Pelna behind to guard Noctis’s room to the glaive’s greatest chagrin, because it would seem more suspicious for him to not be there should anyone come by in the night. Ignis and Gladio followed Noctis dutifully, and Nyx fell into step behind them, more alert than he usually seemed. Noctis was curious to know why one of his father’s personal glaives had been roaming the princess’s hallways, but as much trouble that Nyx could get into, he rarely behaved without good intention or orders, so Noctis relaxed on that account. 

They’d had a couple of close calls with passing guards, but Luna successfully navigated them with the ease of a princess who’d learned how to sneak an extra treat from the kitchens with the highest mind to not be caught. Now they stood in the innermost chambers of the castle, in front of what must have been the treasure room.

“Here we are,” Luna spoke up quietly, her hand on the largest doors Noctis had ever seen with gilded gold hinges and decorations. On the front of the door a complex looking lock with two rings and a keyhole winked back at Noctis in the low light of his magic. The light of the glowstones hanging from his prince’s crown, an accessory that rested against his skin above his ears, fashioned to resemble his father’s crown of crystal dragon horns, cast a soft purple light onto the ruddy metal as Lunafreya spun the rings into a the appropriate placement. 

She pushed the key in and turned, and after a few moments of bated breath, Noctis heard the telltale clanking and churning of gears moving within the door. 

It was far too heavy for her to pull open herself. When Gladio and Nyx grunted under the strain of the task, Noctis finally saw why. The door was as thick with stone and metal as he was wide, no doubt to withstand any sort of penetration from those who weren’t privy to the combination. Ignis passed Gladio a handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his forehead before following Luna inside. For the second time he wondered if it was okay if foreign dignitaries should casually stroll into the treasure vaults, but he remember how distraught Luna was and shook out his insecurities. This was important. 

Because Luna was showing them a prophecy. The ring at his throat throbbed to the beat of his heart as he stepped over the vault’s threshold and into the darkness of the room. 

He paused when Nyx hung back, eyeing the dark enclosed space with a practical eye. Noctis let him have his reservations; they’d need a lookout in the hallway anyway, should someone come past. They were in the bowels of the castle at this point, and with every moment the night grew later and that chance more unlikely.  

He’d expected the chests of gold, the piles of Niffilian antique artifacts, the rows of ancient weapons in need of restoration lining the walls, and even the desk covered with rugs recovered from Solean ruins. After all his own vaults back home had once been full of ancient antiquities before the war had cost them most of it. He felt a shred of irritation to see something from his childhood coffers sitting on a silver pedestal, and decidedly turned away from it. Ignis marveled at a mithril javelin, though one wouldn’t have known he’d shown any interest had his fingers not subtly dragged over the ethereal blade’s edge. 

What he hadn’t expected was the overturned statue of Ifrit, the astral god of flames and knowledge, with his horned crown broken to pieces at their feet. The statue was crafted of black marble that gleamed a dark crimson despite the purple light that bounced across its surface.  It was quite easily the largest thing in the room, and seemed to have fallen over in an unnatural way, crushing the collection of crystal geodes that had lain beneath. Their dust crunched beneath Noctis’s boots. Now that he was looking properly, most of this room seemed… disrupted? Attacked. Chairs were broken and splintered. The desk with precious rugs had a scar running through it, and Noctis immediately imagined a sword swinging down and catching itself in the rich amber wood. Other than the disarray, the room was relatively untouched. Still, even. The chill from the weather outside seemed startlingly sharp, and Ignis rubbed his fingers together as if to clean his gloves. Dust had lifted from the javelin.

Ahead, Luna had her shawl bundled up as she ransacked the room. “We’re looking for− for a tapestry. A big red cloth.” 

Gladio gently led her away from her idles back to Ignis’s side. “Let us.”

“We’ll find it, Princess.” Noctis agreed and got to work looking for anything resembling the tapestry. Ignis started by going through the rugs, and Noctis assumed that was a fair start. Fabrics with fabrics. Gladio rummaged through crates that looked like confiscated contraband, marked with black stenciled lettering on the outside. Seemed most of those had stone statuettes, but no tapestry.

Noctis turned to inspecting the corner of the room at the base of Ifrit’s broken base. He found wooden practice swords and a pile of rusted armor here leaning up against one of the most impressive pieces of furniture he’d ever seen. The throne was twisted red marble with bright veins of white and black and etched in gold with gemstones crowning the feet and headboard. It was fashioned after a tree of some sort, and an assortment of rusted lanterns hung from the branches. In the seat lay a small silk blanket, sky blue and soft to the touch. It was partially burned on the edges, and beneath it lay a host of papers. For a moment, Noctis thought he’d discovered a collection of old and forgotten legal documents beneath it, but upon closer inspection he realized that they were… drawings. Artwork? Some singed while others were much worse off but all painstakingly collected and soft from touch, as if they were someone’s precious treasures, they showed the images of some of Eos’s most impressive beasts. The artist, clearly a child, was still talented enough that Noctis could recognize a chocobo when he saw one, and a behemoth on another page, body half burned away.

“Hey, Luna? Is there a young child in the castle?” He called out.

“Hmm?” She answered. “Not that I know. We don’t typically take servants so young, and we haven’t had a young prince in the castle since before… well, Ravus and I arrived.”

Noctis bit his lip. Something about that gnawed at him but he couldn’t quite place it. The papers were old, staggeringly so… but he could still make out the faint marks of teardrops on them.

He shook his head. This wasn’t what Luna was looking for. Focus, Noctis.

“Hey, Noctis. Bring your horns over here for a sec?” Gladio asked from the other end of Ifrit, his massive body sort of twisted as he stepped onto one of the contraband boxes and looked under the god’s head, hanging on to a horn for support. “Ifrit’s blocking the light. I think it’s behind the statue.”

Noctis moved to stand behind him, but that only made it so that Gladio’s body cast yet another shadow. “Gladio, give me a boost.”

The shield nodded and dropped down onto the floor. Noctis stepped into his hand, and with minimal effort on his part Gladio lifted Noctis up. Noct pulled himself up by Ifrit’s shoulder, and gasped at the marble’s frigid touch as he stood with one foot on the god’s hip. “Shiva’s tits it’s freezing in here.”

Ignis let out a pained noise. “Noctis, really. In front of the princess?” 

Noctis blushed. “Sorry, Luna.”

She only smiled and tilted her head, though her fingers twitched at her elbows. She seemed apprehensive.

Peering behind the statue, and with Gladio looking around the side, Noctis’s glowstones illuminated the cramped space behind the statue. Lo and behold, they found what looked to be a large armoire with what looked to be a serpentine stretch of red cloth spilling over its edges. He tried to reach it from where he was, leaning forward with his hand outstretched but just as he managed to dust his fingers over the cloth, it slipped away and slid to the floor into a shimmering pile, partly stuck in the door of the armoire. Noctis hissed in frustration.  

“That’s gotta be it.” Gladio huffed and helped Noctis hop down. “Any way we can move around it?”

Ignis checked up and down the statue, his brows furrowing as his analysis reached a conclusion. There was nothing in the room long enough or strong enough to lift such a heavy cloth without sending someone face first behind the statue.

“Seems… we’ll have to move the statue?” Luna offered quietly.

“Yes. Nyx, could you help us?” Ignis asked. “I don’t think the three of us are strong enough to lift a statue made of Ebony marble.”

The glaive’s lips wrenched, clearly not entertained by the idea but a glance at Luna had him rubbing the back of his head and conceding. “Alright. Where do you want me, Iggy?”

Ignis had the princess stepped back further to make room for the statue and placed the men at strategic positions, Gladio and Nyx lifting the heavy base, Noctis with his grip on the horns of Ifrit’s crown, and himself gripping under the god’s waist. “On the count of three, gentleman. One… two… three!”

All at once they heaved, and Noctis had to dig deep for resolve to keep his knees from buckling. For a few heart-stopping moments he felt like the statue was tipping forward as soon as they’d cleared it of the floor, and that he was about to be flattened beneath it. Ignis shouted something and had them all angle the statue, and together they pulled away from the wall for a precious few moments before their dwindling strength demanded they place it back down on the floor. Winded, Nyx sat back on the desk and wheezed, Gladio bent over and gripped his knees. Noctis wanted to hurl, and Ignis looked infuriatingly unaffected.

Noctis gathered the tapestry up and breathed out in relief, his fingers tracing over the course material curiously. At its touch something shivered inside of him, but he said nothing as he brought it to Luna. The others crowded around them as Luna came closer, Nyx’s curiosity outweighing his training. There seemed to be some sort of golden script woven into it, old and ancient-tongued beyond Noctis’s knowledge. Some places were burned, like the artwork, and the very end of it seemed to have been ripped or cut off. And yet, knowing that the words before him weren’t known to him didn’t seem to stop his mind from translating. The longer he stared, the more the words made sense to him, and the ring grew hotter, painfully so.

“What does it say, Princess?” Ignis asked, stepping out of the way for her. 

Luna came up to take the tapestry from him, but the moment their hands touched, Noctis wrenched it away with a gasp, his throat clenched tight with fear and pain. The ring beneath his shirt burned into him, just as it had before, and Noctis could barely stand it. Before he was even aware of himself, the room burst with a brilliant blue light, and his blade appeared in his hand, slashing out at Luna. 

When his brain caught up he realized that she’d dodged it effortlessly, with a mirthless, roiling laugh that set Noctis’s skin on fire. 

“Noctis, what in gods blazing are you doing?” Gladio bellowed.

“That’s−” Noctis gasped out, tears threatening the edge of his eyes. “ −not Luna.”

The princess stood with her arms open just beyond the vault doors lifted like unbalanced scales. Her shawl dropped away to reveal swarming darkness from below her neck, and before their eyes the illusion faded away to reveal High Chancellor Izunia, draped in heavy red cloaks and a high gray fur collar. His smile was sharper than the sword at his hip.

Nyx strode forward, kukris in hand. The swarming darkness poured from Ardyn's cloak in response, lashing out against Nyx's chest that the glaive was sent reeling, boots scuffing the floor as he slid back. He grunted in pain, his chest piece slashed open to reveal a thin line of dark matter and mottled blood.  

"Chancellor Izunia?!" Ignis balked. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This my dear boy," Ardyn chuckled, his hands coming together to clasp solemnly in front of him. "Was nothing more than... a game, if you will. I do so enjoy getting to know my friends. I wanted to see if the prince was worth much of anything, and while I do not know exactly how you've seen through my tricks, I am quite impressed by you, young Noctis. Tell me, how did you know it was me and not your precious Lunafreya? I am quite the actor, you know."

Noctis glared but spat in Ardyn's direction. Gladio's broadsword had burst into being, leaving Noctis somewhat lightheaded as Ardyn's laughter resounded around the vault. 

“Well, no matter. It was enough just to see the prophecy once more.” Darkness dripped from his hands and lips to the floor, oozing and bubbling as it moved, alive. It made no move to attack but the lethality of its strike against Nyx left them all painfully cornered. "You should be thankful. In here, you'll be safe and protected, with my other treasures." Ardyn turned his gaze directly onto Noctis with a smile. “Because you are a treasure. Always safe and protected in your father’s shadow, aren’t you, Noct?” 

He drew out the nickname and Noctis snarled, rushing up and slamming hard into Gladio’s arm, shielding the prince from the darkness. 

Ardyn laughed. “Well, do not fear. The vaults will protect you where your father cannot.”

“What do you mean?” Noctis snarled. “What the fuck is going on!”

The castle shook. A distant rumbling rattled the vault room, sending treasure across the floor at the prince’s feet. Ardyn looked as if he were listening to a symphony as sounds of chaos tore through the air. “Aaahh… there it is.  Well, I would love to stay and chat.” He stepped back and Noctis watched with a sinking horror as the vault doors began to close on their own. Trapped, he watched as the only means of escape narrowed in on the chancellor’s bloated silhouette. Noctis saw the last vestige of his light glinting hard on Ardyn’s eyes, a vicious and imperious gold, while the viscous black liquid receded with him. “But I just wouldn’t want to spoil the fun. Be a good little prince and wait here for everything to end.”

The gears in the doors crunched and clicked shut. Noctis pushed past Gladio and hit the doors, His fists meeting solid, immovable metal and his summoned blade drawing only the faintest of scratches from the timeless surface. Gladio joined him to try and pry the doors open from the inside, but the vault had no such mechanism on the inside. Ignis tended to Nyx, who, when he pulled his hand away from his chest, grimaced to see his palm slick with blood. 

Noctis tried banging and shouting, but with the growing cacophony of discord outside and the heavy metal doors absorbing all of his attempts, he only ended up hurting his hands. Noctis nearly screamed in frustration. Worry painted him sick, and the proof appeared at the edges of his body as the slight blue silhouette trailing after him with even the slightest shift in his movements. “We have to get out of here! Dad is—“ He choked, and stomped on his thoughts. 

Gladio squeezed his shoulder and Noctis looked up. “Just take a deep breath. Let’s find a way out.”

Noctis closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to center himself. He heard terrified wailings, and screeches that belong to otherworldly beings— daemons. He knew the night brought daemons, but he’d just assumed that Gralea was safe, that the Keep was safe. His father, with the ring, could have easily banished them all with a wave of his hand.

Noctis slipped his hands into his hair and gripped painfully, frustration boiling over. The ring was here, in the hands of the wrong Caelum.

He tossed his head back and took a deep and chilling breath, and tried to rein in all the magic he’d unconsciously released. Ignis cleaned his glasses off with a strip of pink silk. He didn’t look as stressed as the rest of them, but the corners of his mouth were set in a dangerous frown and his body was taut like a bowstring. Gladio grunted in relief and Nyx blinked, a little woozy as what Noctis assumed had been pressuring his friends to kneel suddenly returned to Noctis. 

“I can use magic, try to blast the doors open,” Noctis blurted out, his mind racing.

“The room is too small. Any magic able to take out those doors would end up blowing back in our faces. There must be something here.” Ignis shook his head. “We just need to think. Castles always have secret passageways.”

Noctis could almost see Ignis breaking the room down again with his eyes. It was darker than before, and the air was not only cold but also stagnant. Despite the oppressing claustrophobia, Ignis snapped into action, having them check the floor for hidden doors, walls for unusual seams and hollowness, and for anything that might lead to an escape.

Noctis found his way back to the forgotten tapestry, rolling it up in his hands. His fingers lightly traced the unusual script, the words drawing themselves in his mind’s eye. He held something precious, and powerful, like the ring around his neck. This room had clearly seen some sort of fight, from the scorch marks along the walls and the artworks, to the slashes drawn into the desk and the clear disarray. Yet, if someone had come to the vault and left all of these wondrous riches, and they weren’t here for whatever prophecy he had in his hands, then had they come here for something else?

Noctis thought back to his talk about the royal family being attacked and beheaded by Lucian saboteurs. The clear signs of attack, suddenly Lucian.  Royalty would have hidden here in the vaults, the most impenetrable room in the castle. 

He’d found the tapestry clamped in the door of the armoire.

Noctis tucked the prophecy away into his Armiger and stepped up to the armoire. It was a dark black wood, plain amongst the surrounding brilliance, and stood at about Gladio’s height. When he opened it, he was greeted with more clawing marks on the sides, as if someone had desperately clawed at the wall. Empty and spacious, Noctis noticed nothing else save for a false back and a warm draft of air. 

“Iggy. I think I found it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The secret passageways were choked with smoke. They rushed as fast as they could. Noctis couldn’t abate the panic that rose with each and every turn they took. The paths were, cramped, low and narrow and everything looked the same. Noctis’s glowstones were beginning to dim, making the web of passageways all that more difficult to navigate, sometimes forcing them to stumble up crumbling staircases and other times skate around rotund walls. They followed the voices, the screams, a growing, sweltering heat that had Noctis’s hair sticking to his face and neck, until Noctis leaned up against a wall made of wood and fell through it, landing painfully on the back of a bookshelf. 

Gladio hauled Noctis back onto his feet, and Ignis stepped over into the small office. “Let’s be careful.”

Ignis pressed the band of his glasses. Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose. “Have a plan, Noctis?”

“Find my dad. Find the real Luna. We’ll figure the rest out later.” Noctis moved over to the door and Gladio cautiously opened it. A sudden wash of heat poured in, and smoke filled his lungs.

“Oh goodness,” Ignis inhaled sharply. 

Before them was an unfamiliar hallway. Along the outer wall flames licked at the windows with glowing white tongues. Noctis inched closer to look down into the courtyard, finding that the hedge maze still stood, the surrounding buildings having offered enough of a stone buffer to keep the foliage from the fire. It seemed the castle and the surrounding land was standing out of sheer stubbornness, made of stone, but the same could not be said about the courtyard outside or the city.  The massive windows boasted the entire view of the valley, and Noctis swallowed hard as he watched Gralea burning below. Just beyond the bridge, massive dark forms blotted out the flames with fangs and claws. Townspeople and their familiars scurried like ants. He could see them attempting to draw water from the river below the bridge, but one would fall to a daemon before the water could be used.

Ignis wiped at his brow.  “Those are Crownsguard and Niffilian soldiers.” The contrasting of black and white uniforms made it clear that the two forces were working together to fight back against the daemonic tide. “There’s the Marshal, I think, on the bridge.” It was too far a distance to tell, but the long streaks of blue light flashing in the darkness seemed to suggest the Marshal was using that ridiculous blade of his. “Too many daemons to be normal. Something’s not right.”

As Ignis said it, a slithering body rose up through the flames. Hissing filled the hallway as one massive snake demon’s weight cracked the glass window. The underside of the snake’s belly started to glow, white and blue as it reared its ugly, human face back and fixed dead gelatinous eyes on them.

Nyx shoved Noctis’s shoulders. “We’re going now, highness! Run!”

Grabbing onto Ignis’s sleeve, Noctis tore off down the hallway, his shield and his father’s glaive on their heels just as the sharp smattering of glass echoed after them. The hissing was fast approaching.

Noctis nearly fell face first down a flight of stairs, hissing as his ankle caught loose debri. They passed gaping holes in the castle walls, white fire clinging shrewdly to decorations. He tossed a look over his shoulder and swore just as the Naga’s hideous face came hurtling towards him. It shoved past Gladio, its mane of snakes stretching out.

Noctis lift his hand, his sword appearing instantly. It wasn’t gonna be fast enough \--

Fangs struck out and pierced the thin dress shirt he wore, sinking deep into the flesh of his ribs. Pain exploded through him, made his vision go black at the edges, before Gladio’s downward strike had those vicious creatures severed and lying limply on the floor. The naga reared back with a bone-chiling screech.

There wasn’t enough time or space to fight this thing. Not even time to assess the damage. 

“Noct!” Ignis shouted and pulled Noctis back, tossing the entirety of his weight against a pair of doors behind them. “A ballroom!”

Ballroom was an overstatement. What had once been a grand hall now had a deep and painful scar tearing through the floor from one wall to the other. Rushing water, presumably the source of the Gralean River, burst out below them in the maw, cascading into a deep and terrible darkness. The greater wall of windows, completely destroyed, had sloughed away with most of the castle below them. Outside, the courtyard was in clear view, and Noctis was so distracted by the sight of his father standing in the center of it that he almost didn’t stop in time.  The prince slid to a halt at the edge of the gap, catching himself on Ignis’s outstretched arm. 

“Shit!” Noctis felt Gladio’s back press against his, his Shield taking up a protective position. “Nowhere to run.”

The naga had wasted no time recovering, its blood splattering across the floor and walls in hot bursts as it shook its head in rage. She loomed over them then, her monstrous size undiminished by the spacious room. Fangs dripping with venom, it lunged toward them again, and behind him Gladio braced for impact. 

Noctis hissed through the pain and threw up a hand, his barrier magic just barely crystallizing in time to protect Nyx and Gladio. He held himself there, feeling the weight of the naga against his palm as the magic flickered and waned. He clenched his fist and cried out, the pain almost bringing him to his knees as the first wave of attacks shattered across his barrier. He could hear shouting and felt hands on him, but it took everything Noctis had just to keep his eyes open and his defences up. Already the magic was weakening inside. The ring sat against his breast white hot, burning in the presence of darkness. His body was burning up, heat spreading and boiling its way up through his body, through his blood, into his lungs--

“Noctis!”

Suddenly, a cool wash of power rushed over them, like the tide of the ocean crashing over them. Noctis gasped and opened his eyes to see Luna, hand outstretched on the other side of the split with Crowe and Libertus at her side. Her magic crackled in her hand, her determined face streaked with soot as the ice glanced across Noctis’s shields and swallowed the Naga in one swift wave. Its terrified shrieking was all but strangled as the ice encased it whole.

Noctis released the magic, groaning as Ignis pressed his hands against Noctis’s side. 

“You’re bleeding, Noctis,” His advisor’s voice was clipped. “We have to--”

Noctis shoved him away. “No. We need to keep going.” He looked across the hole in the floor to Luna, who stood barefooted and cut. Libertus and Crowe looked worse for wear, too, holding Luna up by her elbows as the magic left her in a rush. 

He wasn’t confident he could warp himself across the gap, let alone Gladio and Iggy. He looked to Nyx expectantly, who grimaced and brandished his blade. Gladio seemed to get the hint and gripped onto Iggy and Noctis with a hand each. Nyx put a hand on Noctis’s shoulder and tossed the blade.

Moments later, Noctis was rushing over the gap in a brilliant blue haze, a brief moment of warmth as the familiarity of his father’s magic carried them across. Libertus caught him when he stumbled, and Noctis let out a soft grunt, wanting more than anything to just collapse. 

He shook his head, hard, realizing that it was more than just Ignis’s hands that were on him. Luna’s were pressing into his side, and soft yellow light poured from her fingertips and into his wounds. 

“Oh, thank gods,” Noctis groaned out. “You’re the real Luna.”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t. “I’m so sorry, Noctis. I didn’t realize-- I kept seeing things but I didn’t realize they were already upon us. I wanted to tell you--”

He placed a hand over hers. “Luna, it’s not important right now. We need to-- I need to find my dad.”

“No, Noctis, listen to me. You must go now, before they realize that you have the ring.” She gripped his arms painfully tight. “You must take it far away from here and find--” A look of realization crossed her face. “Do you have it? The tapestry from the vaults? No, I can sense it. Noctis, please. The god Ifrit is outside destroying the town, trying to get to  _ you _ . You must take the prophecy and go, find the other astrals so we can stop this evil from spreading. If we don’t,” her voice shook, “We--”

“Noct!” Gladio’s horrified shout wrenched Noctis’s attention away.

Just in time to see his father, hand raised to the sky with light pouring out of his very being with his back to a defeated Clarus, meet with the edge of a twisted and foul blade. 

Noctis heard screaming, and realized that it was his own, his voice dying out with the last of the light from his father’s spell as a dark knight wrapped in daemonic red armor stepped over his father’s body and severed his right hand from his body. Gladio and Ignis together hand to hold Noctis by the wrists, their pain etched into their faces, their very beings. 

If he couldn’t throw a blade, he couldn’t warp to his death.

Then, Ardyn was down below, too, inspecting the King’s body with an almost lazy sort of appraisal, until he realized with a visceral snarl that what he was looking for was on a different Caelum. Noctis reeled back when Ardyn’s face snapped towards them.

“Noctis,” Luna’s anguished voice drew him slowly back from the edge, and her hands wiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wanted to sob openly, throw his arms out and hit something, anything,  _ Ardyn _ , but only Luna was here now, her pain and his meeting in the small space between them.

“Luna.” Was that his voice? It sounded so far away, so distant and foreign it could have been in another world. Everything had stopped; the screams, the fire, the beating of his own heart. All that was left to him was her. 

She smiled so faintly. “Do you trust me?”

He nodded, and their foreheads met. “Always.”

“Then trust in him, too,” Her voice broke.

Then, she shoved Noctis with all of her strength. He felt the blow of her magic inside himself, felt the force of it push him back into Ignis and Gladio.

And together, the three of them tipped over the edge of the crevice, sinking deep into a raging rush of river-water, and the distinct, loving embrace of her magic warping them far, far away. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Noctis was drowning, and all he wanted to do was let it happen. 

It would be so easy, to let the chilly water flood his burning, exhausted lungs with ice and darkness. To smother out the light inside that was so battered and beaten. The poison burning in his blood, petrifying the whole right side of his body, made it so easy to just freeze up, give up. A light shone down through the water but all the prince could do was close his eyes, rejecting it. He played his father’s death over and over, till his lungs were fit to collapse and his sight went dark. 

Eventually, his consciousness flickered out. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Noctis awoke to something warm against his lips, breathing life into him.

Noctis wrenched to the side and coughed, expelling gushes of murky river water from his lungs. And when he was finished with that, he vomited even more, hacking and spilling everything that he had on the dark damp earth while a warm hand rubbed circles between his shoulders. Each heave made him cry out, the petrification of his right side making every jarring move just that much more torturous.

“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath,” An unfamiliar voice, soothing and steady, coaxed Noctis along. A thin hand snaked under him to support him as Noctis clawed to get away. “Ow! Hey, calm down, I’m--”

Noctis shoved the man back and whipped up onto his feet. He regretted it instantly, the pain tearing him apart from the inside. His blood rushed in his ears, his body awash with fever despite the snowfall that settled on his shoulders. Already his clothes were beginning to harden, but that didn’t stop the prince from holding up his sword and angling it at the other man.

“Whoa, hold on--”

“Who are you?” Noctis demanded. His sight dimmed and blurred, and his own labored breaths filled his ears, but he thought he could somewhat make out the halo of blonde, a thick red cloak, and the most intensely violet eyes he had ever seen.

“Prompto.” The man replied quietly, as if speaking too loud would be too much for Noctis to take. “I’m just Prompto.”

“Prom--” Noctis shuddered and felt the sword in his hand slip loose. “--pto…”

That was all he could manage before he succumbed to the dark again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment! Even if its short I will most certainly appreciate it and reply.
> 
> Also, come scream at me @paopunova.tumblr.com 
> 
> Theres artwork for this chapters original plans, but Noctis did his spoiled brat thing and rendered my art useless. http://paopunova.tumblr.com/post/166467582598/ok-so-i-updated-devoured-and-this-was


	7. Uncomfortable, Uncooperative, and Uneasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters music is Far and Away by Philip Wesley. It's got a nice dark, but somewhat hopeful sound I like to think represents the mix of the Lucian party and Prompto finally mingling. Darkened sunlight of a sort.

Prompto caught the fevered man with arms outstretched, forcing himself not to panic as the sword the man dropped shattered into ethereal glass upon the haven’s surface.

In an instant, Prompto knew who he held in his arms.

Already, the petrification from some daemon’s toxins were beginning to turn the young man’s entire right side to stone, encroaching on his throat and heart, while his breath shook out of him in painfully small puffs of fog. Behind him, two other dark-haired Lucians lay unconscious beside an unlit fire, soaked to the core by the intrepid river and crystals forming on their blue lips. Parti dragged them by the scruffs of their jacket shoulders closer to the haven’s heart and pacedbetween them, a distressed whine tearing through the night as Prompto thought.

_Okay. You can do this._ Prompto coached. _You can do this._

Hefting the young prince up under the arms, Prompto hauled him over to rejoin his companions. He did his best not to drop him in his haste, laying him out as best he could with those ebony horns on the side of his head and as close as he could dare to the fire pit, stretched out on his back to face the night sky.  Prompto wasn't confident he could  remove the  horns, so he turned the prince's face to the side. His pulse was faint, revived only by the fever of his body and what Prompto expected was downright royal stubbornness. He was already losing the battle, however, against the elements, the snowfall, and the poison.

The young hunter reached into his pack and pulled out his precious fire stones, the very same few he’d pilfered from the royal tombs not two days before, and tossed them into the ring of rocks and wood. With a forceful word under his breath, the logs bloomed to life and sent waves of warmth and intense amber light across the hollow, contrasting with the blue runelight of the haven where he’d taken refuge.

“Parti, sit,” Prompto looked over to her as he rustled through his bag again and pointed down on the ground. She paused before gently settling her bulk between the two retainers, her mass partially covering them both on opposite sides. Groans of protest wound their way up from sleepy throats and through chattering teeth. For now, knowing that they were both alive enough to feel discomfort would have to do.

The prince came first. Prompto’s hands shook inside his bag. The firelight cast hard, brittle shadows over an impossibly soft face, youthful in sleep, contorted in pain and fever while a sheen of sweat beaded above dark eyebrows. Elsewhere, his clothes hardened with frost. Prompto didn’t want to remove his clothes for now. With nothing dry to replace them, it would be better to leave them on.

Prompto realized he didn’t have a choice, though,  if he wanted to treat the prince’s wounds. He removed from his bag what it was he needed; a golden needle the length of his palm that he’d safely tucked away in one of his knife sheaths, looking more like a woman’s expensive hair ornament than a magical tool. He placed it on the hard stone of the haven beneath them, before going to work on the prince’s vest, unlacing black ribbons to reveal the tunic beneath, plastered to hard muscle and pale skin. He lifted the bottom edge and sucked in a soft gasp as his fingers trailed over the curve of silvery marble that spread with every labored breath.

Once, Prompto had been partially petrified. His stone skin had turned into reddish clay, stiffening and worsening with every little movement. Sania had spent an entire evening with her spell books open, dousing him with remedy after remedy until he’d been cured. The next week he’d asked her to track down a Golden Needle, never again wishing to ever be left to the mercy of a daemon’s curse. He could only imagine the agony the Prince of Lucis was going through.

He traced the multiple puncture wounds on the man’s ribs and took the needle into his other hand, bracing himself as he leaned over. He took a deep breath, raised his hand above his head, and –

A grip caught his hand mid-arc, a snarl of visceral pain and frustration exploding behind him as he felt the other hand twist into his hair. Suddenly, Prompto found the needle pressing into his throat. He realized that he’d been so focused on his task he hadn’t heard Parti growling as the two she’d been asked to guard fought past her, delirious to stand and determined to come to their prince’s rescue.

The big guy hadn’t quite made it off of his knees yet, one hand on his face with another outstretched, impressively angling a broadsword at Parti. Prompto’s coeurl prowled just at the edge of the danger with narrow eyes and glittering whiskers, a beast of murder waiting for a chance.

The thinner man with gaunt cheeks and long limbs held Prompto in a vice grip, wrenching his head back so far Prompto’s eyes blurred from the pain. “Stop! Stop! I’m not gonna— I’m trying to help him!” He pushed out on the hand holding the needle, straining against the unlikely strength the thinner man displayed. Above him, teeth bared in the dark and flashed in response. The pressure on his wrist increased and Parti yowled a single warning, crouching low. Prompto held out a hand to her. “No, Parti, down! Look, I swear to the gods, I’m here to—” The needle pricked at the soft flesh below his jawline, and he whimpered. “—Luna! Luna sent me!”

That earned him a pause, a fraction of relief as the needle pulled back a breath. “L-Luna did?” a raspy, disbelieving voice burst out through chattering teeth.

“Look, I’ll explain later, I swear, but if you don’t let me go right now your… your _prince_ is going to be breathing in stone. I need to stop it before it reaches his heart.”

The man’s eyes, acidic green and sharp, flickered between Prompto’s face and the needle pressing to his throat. The hunter waited on a choked breath until reason, or some sort of begrudging understanding, crossed the retainer’s pale face, and he was being released. Prompto glanced up and rubbed his wrist. After an extended silence, pale blue lips parted and threats slipped out. “You m-make one unnecessary m-move, and it will be your last. I assure you.”

Prompto believed him.

“Ig—Iggy?” The shuddering hulk of a man exclaimed. “Are you mad?!“

“Hush, Gladio.” The man Iggy knelt beside Prompto with his back to the fire. Prompto waved Parti down, and now that he didn’t seem to be in danger she unwillingly complied, crawling one paw at a time with shifting hips until she was as close as she dared to come with Gladio’s blade between them.

With the burning green gaze so shrewdly intent on his every move, and the bear of a man ready to cut him down from behind, Prompto swallowed hard. Before him, the young prince had somewhat come to consciousness, looking up through a fever haze while his head rolled back into Iggy’s careful hands. Prompto watched words form on his lips, but the most that came out was an undignified squeak while his shoulders twitched. “ _Ig-Ignis_?”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got you,” Ignis soothed, eyeing the magic needle.

“Keep him still. I don’t want to stab the wrong thing,” Prompto exchanged a nervous glance with the man, who unblinkingly nodded back. After Ignis secured the prince’s head against his thighs and pinning his shoulders down, Prompto steadied himself, pulled his arm back once more, and brought it down in a single swift strike.

The needle struck across the stone skin, resulting in the clear sound of ice shattering underfoot. Spindly cracks raced out from the point of impact, running with golden light as the magic needle worked its power through the marble. The prince’s body convulsed, arching up into the needle from shock, but his confidant held him fast despite the shivers that wracked him. Prompto brushed the crumbling rock away with shaking fingers, revealing the smooth pale skin beneath before repeating the process up and down the prince’s hardened body. He chiseled away the curse one stab at a time. The prince moaned with each tap, his hands coming up to grip at the wrists holding him down as he writhed, and sometimes it seemed that he was lucid enough to keep his squirming arms out of the hunter’s way.

“Ramuh above,” He heard Gladio’s sharp intake of breath, and Ignis watched in silence as Prompto worked the magic needle inch by inch.

When it was done, and all that was left were the healing bite wounds, Prompto whistled low. Parti skirted around the bodyguard, who finally banished his blade back to the extra space, and came to Prompto. She nosed her way over to him, pressing into the softness of his throat as he put the needle back into his bag. “Okay. The curse is stopped, but he’s still going to freeze to death. You all will. My coeurl can help warm you up a little, so make room for her.”  When Iggy didn’t move and Gladio came to loom over him, face grizzled and thunderously suspicious, Prompto’s fists curled tight. “Look! I know you’re Lucian and I’m sure you know what’s best and all when it comes to _him_ ,” He gave a pointed glance down to the boneless form of the prince laying on the haven floor, “but the last time I checked, Lucis was a desert. I’ll bet my left arm and the next two weeks of meals I know more about surviving a blizzard than the two of you combined!”

Gladio wiped at his face, stupefied, before exchanging a wordless conversation with Ignis. Reluctantly, he crouched down beside the other retainer to watch. Prompto encouraged Parti to lay down on the other side of the motionless prince. She’d keep him warm from one side and the fire would do its part from the other, but there was still the matter of the wounds and drenched clothes clinging to every curve of the prince’s body.

“Do you… Do you have any dry clothes in the extra space?” Prompto asked. When they just blinked at him, Prompto fumbled for words a little dumbly, having forgotten the correct Lucian word for that royal magic. “You know—where you keep your weapons and armor. The Extra Space. Do you have any blankets or—anything?”

Ignis put a hand on Gladio’s forearm; another silent conversation. Confusion and reluctance played out on Gladio’s face while Ignis’s much more subtle understanding seemed to flicker and resolve in a matter of moments. It seemed that there was no need for secrecy. Seeing things vanish and appear out of thin air was as much their identification as the darkness of the prince’s hair, and Prompto had already seen, and done, enough.

Ignis stretched out a hand, and upon fully reaching out a thick wool blanket appeared in a burst of light, gently falling in their laps. “We also have a change of c-clothes.”

“Good. Let’s get him out of these clothes. Cut them off.” When Ignis stiffened, Prompto quickly backtracked. “I’ll let you handle that. Just don’t make him move too much. You two should get into something dry, too. He was in the water a lot longer, but that doesn't mean you’re safe. ”

“Of c-c-course,” Ignis nodded briskly, and it seemed that he was recovering from the surprising situation far faster than Gladio, who already held his change of clothes in his hands. “Gladio, dry off while I s-see to… to Noct,” Ignis was reluctant to say his prince’s name, but Prompto understood.  They followed him out of the corner of their eyes. Even Ignis, who seemed focused on his task with no wasted movement despite the tremble in his grip. Prompto stepped back, wrapped in his own cloak, and watched him strip the prince, Noct, and dry him off with the soft woolen blanket. When a blade appeared in his hand and swiftly split the tunic and vest apart up to the prince’s throat, Prompto noticed that Ignis hid Noctis from view with his body, but not before Prompto saw a necklace of some kind. Gladio tossed his wet clothes to the side and then tucked the blanket beneath the Lucian prince while Ignis took his turn changing clothes. From the extra space, Ignis pulled out a pair of glasses, and Prompto realized that he must have lost a pair to the river.

They were unwilling to rest even when the danger of hypothermia subsided, Ignis constantly testing the strength of his prince’s pulse and Gladio glaring between the coeurl and her owner from across the fire. Prompto sat down and pushed his hands close to the flames. He stared back until whatever Gladio was searching for was found, or not. After that, Gladio ventured as far from the fire as he’d dare, walking a perimeter at the edge of the fire light, before returning with a growl in his throat, whispering low in Ignis’s ear.

After a moment, Prompto tossed a few twigs into the stone pit. “You should rest beside him. You’ll need to share warmth. Parti won’t bite as long as I’m okay.” He offered.  “And as long as we’re here at the haven, the daemons can’t bother us. You’ll be safe.”

“Safe,” Ignis pursed his lips and it showed in his eyes how he weighed their options. For now, it seemed he’d accept this uneasy alliance.

“Look. I wouldn’t drag you out of the river if I just wanted to kill you now, would I?” He offered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Waste perfectly good fire stones on a Lucian for fun? I think the fuck not.”

Ignis looked him up and down, realizing that Prompto from the bottom half was soaked through, and Prompto was glad to have hidden his gun before jumping into the river. Prompto covered himself with that thick red cloak of his and coughed into his hand. After a while though, Ignis gave a quick jerk of his head, and Gladio sunk down, leaning ever so slowly back against Parti’s haunches with Noct’s legs propped up into his lap. Ignis took to the other side, sliding himself beneath Noctis and leaning back, essentially becoming a reclining chair with his prince resting flush against him with the blanket stretched over them all. Already, color had returned to their lips and when Ignis addressed him again it was with smooth words.

“…Can you tell us how we arrived here?” Ignis questioned him.

Prompto looked up from the fire, nose buried in his arms. “Kind of… fell from the sky. Straight into the river.” Gladio tentatively stretched out an arm along the coeurls back, watching her face for signs of discomfort. Prompto smiled a little as Gladio relaxed, just a bit, into her warm fur, his hand reaching over to rest on Ignis’s shoulder. Between the two of them, Prompto tried to decide what their roles were in relation to the prince. Retainers, clearly as they wielded the power of kings.

“Awful coincidence for you to be here, where we appeared.” Ignis sniffed, regarding him with a cool level gaze. Prompto decided he was the Hand, the advisor of the prince. He didn’t have the body to be a Shield, for one, and, two, Gladio didn’t dissect Prompto with his eyes, didn’t dismember his words and the situation like Prompto knew Ignis was at that very moment.

“I told you. Luna sent me. I’m—” Prompto had to find the right word. Sometimes, speaking in Lucian felt like travelling back in time. He had to make guesses from the roots of Niffilian words and pray they were correct. “—I’m a messenger.”

Ignis’s lips pressed into a fine line. “One minute we’re with Princess Lunafreya herself, and the next we’re drowning in a river, miraculously being saved by a man who just happens to have a golden needle ready to cure the prince’s ailments?” Prompto winced. He didn’t really have any sort of defense for that. He’d just learned from years of isolation to always be prepared for anything. “You’ll understand if I ask you to prove that you’re truly Lunafreya’s messenger.”

“I haven’t already?” Prompto shot back. Ignis’s frown didn’t budge, so Prompto sighed and rubbed his hand into his hair. “… Luna came to me in a dream last night. She told me she needed my help. Said she’d be sending someone my way, someone who’d need me. She was hurt, and the world was burning.” Across the way, prince Noctis’s breathing had evened out, his head cradled against Ignis’s shoulder and nose buried in Parti’s shoulder. He looked so defenseless, younger than Prompto had imagined him to be. He’d heard news before of the Lucian prince through the normal means, bars and tavern gossip. He didn’t particularly pay attention to military reports that’d come in through the screens, no one did, too used to the lies, but some of it must have sunk in.

Noctis the Cowardly, huh? Prompto frowned. He hated how quick Niflheim was to label princes, even princes that weren’t their own. Sure, he’d wondered as everyone had how a prince could stay so far from the war when Niflheim’s own prince led many a charge. Prompto had thought that if he ever got the chance to meet Prince Noctis, he’d see a thin, weasel of a boy surrounded by eight retainers, with hair oiled back and hands wringing. He hasn't expected someone so… beautiful. Now, watching the fire’s glow glance across soft, vulnerable features, Prompto wasn’t so sure that Noctis was a coward as much as he was young, unready.

Not every prince could flourish in war like Ravus, and not every prince grew to be a Hero King like Regis.

He realized that Ignis had asked him a question. “Sorry, what?”

“How do you know the princess?”

Prompto wiped beneath his nose. “Ah, the princess knows everyone. She comes to everyone in their dreams. Keeps us safe from the dark. I guess you guys don’t have that in Lucis, huh?”

Gladio sized him up, nose crinkling. “And of everyone in Niflheim, she chose you?”

“Well, I’m not everyone in Niflheim,” Prompto wrung his hands out, trying not to wither under the Shield’s burning glare. Gladio didn’t seem impressed. “I’m… just as confused about all of this as you are, really. But when a beautiful princess is crying in front of you, asking for your help, you don’t really question it. You just wait for magic to happen and you do what you can.”

The retainers exchanged dark, saddened looks that confused him. “So, what now, sir…?”

“Prompto,” he blinked. “Just Prompto. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve done what she’s asked. I pulled you all out of the river and kept the Lucian prince alive. There’s nothing else we _can_ do, so I’m going to sleep.” For good measure, he threw a few more fire stones into the pit, alongside more branches, and curled up under his cloak. “You should sleep too. I’m exhausted just looking at you.”

It was true enough. They’d both succumbed to the dark river, and whether they wanted to admit it verbally or not, Prompto had indeed pulled them all from a watery grave and shared his fire with them. The retainers both had no choice but to be grateful for at least their prince’s life.

However, they couldn’t allow themselves to relax just yet, with Ignis asking him one more question before he could truly settle down.

“Prompto… What of Gralea?”

“Gralea?” He tilted his head to the side, yawning. “Don’t know. We’re nowhere near there. Nowhere near anything.” He laughed without feeling, then shuddered into his cloak. “You guys got a one-way ticket to the wastelands, it looks like. To me.”  

Gladio let out a resigned sigh then, his heavy eyelids sliding shut for a moment as Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. Right then, Prompto became startlingly aware of their ages too, all youth and anxiety, as if the world suddenly weighed on their shoulders. Prompto could practically see the battered and worn armor they’d both donned to protect their hearts, finally crumbling apart with unavoidable weariness. Just as soon as the armor had come off, though, both of the Lucians picked up the jagged pieces and rebuilt their defenses, returning to precariously professional and guarded personas, and effectively shut Prompto out for good.

Prompto tried to find his own armor, eyes on the fire but somehow finding his gaze on the prince just beyond it. Memories soft as satin came to him as his eyes closed, memories better left behind in the dark, and wormed an unforgettable fear into his heart.

The hunter in him knew he had no room to question an Oracle's choice, but Prompto couldn’t help but worry what future awaited a world where stars like him and Noctis collided.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
[](http://imgbb.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder where that big ass frog tongue is? *Think emoji* 
> 
> Scream at me on Tumblr @paopunova where occasionally I draw things.


	8. Meldacio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music for this is Harpyia by Sakuzyo, the sound of the city imo.
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken me two months. Christmas and also I rented a new house so my living situation has improved! Downside I lost my second job so I'm scared.

Noctis woke with a chill inside himself that he knew had nothing to do with the frozen world around him.

He knew, out of familiarity, that it was Ignis who held him up, and Gladio's radiating heat that cradled his knees, an anxious hand gripping and releasing his thigh. For a brief, blissful moment, it was almost like they were children in the citadel again, surrounded by cushions and silks under a makeshift fort that had completely collapsed around them in their sleep.

He couldn't ignore the cold, the emptiness, as reality quickly and violently wrenched him from his childhood  screaming. He screamed, clawed, and tore  at his friends to escape their blistering comfort, a comfort he couldn’t let himself indulge in. The Prince crawled to the edge of the Haven, where the sun burned through the dark finger-like branches of the treetops and scattered violet light over a white field and shimmering road of water. He wept until he couldn’t find his voice anymore and the tears had all frozen up. All too soon the echoes died out around him and the silence shattered like glass in his ears, his throat aching, his body still raw from the night before and he began shivering and hyperventilating as his mind forced him to watch again and again the events of that terrible night.

Noctis faced with his surroundings could not deny the events at Gralea. The necklace around his neck suffocated him. It's weight bent him forward over his knees till his forehead touched the ground and sobs racked him. His father was gone. Luna was  likely dead.

Behind him, one of his retainers approached him with hesitant steps. He could only imagine what this looked like, how humiliated he should feel; He sat naked save for that flimsy sheet, with streaks of frozen tears on his cheeks. There was  nothing princely about grieving. When they looked at him now, did Ignis and Gladio even see a prince?

He needed to sit up, swallow all of this pain, and he needed to be a godsdamnned king.

But how was he supposed to do that when he couldn't breathe? Astrals, this was pathetic. If his father we're here, he'd be in control. He'd know what to do. He'd－

He'd－

A hand touched his back, and another came under him holding him up under his breastbone. Noctis breathed out harshly , the presence of another person comforting him and steadying him.  After he had settled again, the touch eased him up. Noctis blinked with a slow realization that the man touching him so carefully was neither Gladio nor Ignis. His hands were smaller, and rough with scars and calluses.

The man he vaguely remembered from  night before regarded Noctis with dreamless violet eyes, rimmed red as if he too had cried. Noctis hiccuped in surprise as the man made moves to remove his cloak for him.

"No," Noctis wiped at his face, his emotions finally reigning back in. Over the man's shoulder－Prompto, he remembered－ Ignis and Gladio were at the ready with suspicion and worry melding together on their faces. "No, you need that."

Prompto stopped and blinked, as if he couldn't process what Noctis was saying quickly enough. With slow and careful accented words, Prompto answered him.  "I think you need it more." His eyes drifted down over Noctis, whose toes were turning purple, before quickly darting them away. His cheeks dusted pink.

Noctis blushed too and tightened the blanket.

Ignis came forward, a change of clothes appearing in his hand from somewhere inside his Armiger. Prompto fell back to make room, and Ignis filled the space in a quick moment, one gloved hand on Noctis's jaw. Noctis leaned into it and tried not to cry again."Here. I went ahead and pulled out your ceremonials. You probably won't be able to move very freely, but they'll give you more protection for now."

Noctis's hands shook as he took the clothing from Ignis. "Iggy, I－ I'm sorry－"

"Don't," Ignis looped an arm under him, and Noctis leaned in as he dragged him up onto his feet. "You don't need to apologize, Noct. Now let's get you dressed before you catch your death."

At that, Prompto turned his back and let Noctis get dressed in peace. Noctis watched him for a brief moment longer, before turning his attention to the creep of hypothermia. He felt himself pale when he touched his ceremonial, crafted so similarly to his own father's that he almost refused to wear them.  Ignis even passed him a spare pair of his own gloves, which helped him somewhat keep his composure as he pushed his hair back out of his eyes. Standing with his eyes closed, hair pressed back, Noctis took a deep, grounding breath of chilling air.

The time to grieve was gone now.  He was standing again.  Prince Noctis had returned stoic faced, albeit with swollen eyes.

Prompto stiffened when their gazes returned , reaching down to run his hands over the spine of one very large coeurl with obvious discomfort. Noctis straightened up and watched her carefully but nevertheless strode forward till he stood before the Niffilian. He reached out an arm and offered his hand. “You saved me. Thank you. My name is Noctis.”

Prompto stared down, disbelieving. For a long moment, Noctis was sure he wouldn’t take it, but a moment before the prince could drop his palm the man reached out, the bandages covering his right hand scratching at the seams of Noctis’s gloves. His grip was tentative, but he shook Noctis’s hand all the same. Prompto didn’t break eye contact with him, some clear sort of conflict warring in his eyes. He said, “I know who you are. Luna sent me.”

 _Do you trust me? Then trust in him, too_. Luna’s voice echoed in the recesses of Noctis’s mind. This must be who she meant. Noctis took a moment to look him over from top to bottom, keeping their hands clasped as he did so. Soft blond hair that obscured most of his face from view, shaggy and unkempt, partially covered by his red hood. Beneath that crimson cloak, Prompto wore soft, but warm, leather armor that seemed to be slightly too small, or out-grown. His boots rode high up onto his thigh, but surprisingly there was a lack of weaponry at his hips. From the looks of things, Prompto was some sort of hunter or traveller, and a coeurl familiar alone surely couldn’t be enough to protect a man from the wilds of Niflheim.

Noctis looked back up into those violet eyes. They shone nearly purple in the clear light of day, and Prompto still hadn’t looked away from him, nor attempt to pull his hand away. Noctis found it hard, himself. “You’ve helped an enemy prince.”

“Because my princess asked me to help.” Prompto responded, somewhat despondently. “She asked me to protect you. I have.”

Behind him, Ignis commented. “He claims to be a messenger of Lady Lunafreya. “

Noctis let his hand fall then, giving Prompto one last look over. He didn’t seem too threatening, nor did he give off the same feeling that the messenger Gentiana did when they met in Luna’s spellcrafted dreams. Noctis wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, but the fact that the life of his retainers and his own had been saved by Prompto didn’t change. He would trust Luna.  “Ok. Did she ask you to do anything else?” Prompto shook his head. “Do you know what’s happened in Gralea?” Another head-shake. “Did Luna say anything else?”

Prompto seemed to think about it. “She says you’re in danger.”

Noctis crossed his arms. Of that he had no doubt. News of Gralea was sure to sweep through the country in a matter of days, and the only reason Prompto probably wasn’t already aware of it was the lack of communication out in the wilds. The look in Ignis’s eyes also warned him not to divulge anything. If his experience with Niflheim was anything to go by, the fall of Gralea was sure to be twisted and misrepresented against the Lucians, and Noctis had to wonder just how friendly and patriotic Prompto would be to them once those lies met him.

Gladio put a hand on his shoulder. “We should move, then.”

Ignis nodded, and the three of them had a small moment of understanding. They needed to get back to Lucian territory as soon as possible, before the country came closing in on them for crimes they didn’t commit. Before the war started up again between two countries. Noctis’s life was priority. “Prompto, can you show us to the border?” Ignis asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure if you’re used to the wildlands you can get us there without too much interference from cities and towns.”

“I can,” Prompto worried his bottom lip.

“If it’s payment you need, I’m sure we can−“

“−She says you have a task ahead of you.” Prompto continued over Ignis and addressed Noctis, unflinchingly. “I can take you to Lucis, but I think what you have to do is important.”

They stared at each other for a near-silent moment after that as Noctis fumbled over that. Luna wanted him to hunt down the astrals, and somehow the tapestry he’d picked up was connected to all of this, but… was that more important than returning to his country and attempting to prevent a war? Did he even want to prevent a war? After what the Niffilians had done to his father? Swirls of anger unfurled through him, encouraged by this unusual and determined strength in his savior’s expression. Prompto hadn’t been at Gralea, and he didn’t know what Noctis knew, or what he felt.

Surely, he could help Luna better with an army, rather than hunting down gods that may or may not want to speak to him, let alone work with him. Assuming Luna was still alive to be helped... If it was so easy to commune with gods, why could no one else do it? Send Prompto, if he really was her messenger. And if he did find all of the astrals, why did he need them? To protect himself from Ifrit, who’d burned down an entire city in order to get to him? To protect Niflheim? Why did Ifrit do what he did? None of this made sense, and it was all Noctis could do to keep himself upright without succumbing to his own grief.

His head was fit to burst with rancorous thoughts, but once again Luna’s soft trembling voice from the night before won through to him.

_Do you trust me?_

He did. But it was against his intuition for  him to act on blind faith. He had so many responsibilities to address, to fulfill, to step into. Could he afford to ignore them when the future was clouded with so much uncertainty?

Prompto’s violet eyes flashed when Noctis failed to give him anything more than conflicted silence, and they returned to their previously defeated light. “I’ll take you to Lucis, but we have to go to town first. We can’t make that distance without supplies.” Prompto sighed and scratched behind the coeurl’s round ears, and the big cat let out a rough chirp. “We can reach town by tonight.”

Before anyone could object, Prompto gave out a short series of chirps, and the coeurl darted away. In one swift bound, her silver body disappeared over the edge of the haven and sank into a snowdrift that reached up to her elbows. The Niffilian followed with easy, practiced steps down the jagged edge of the haven, careful not to slip into the river. Noctis followed the crimson flow of his cloak with his eyes as it passed between sunlight and the shadows of the surrounding branches for a moment longer, a streak of blood on the otherwise pure white landscape, before following after. Ignis and Gladio, he knew, would follow close beside and withhold any complaints they had for when Prompto, and his familiar, were out of earshot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The cold didn’t bother him as much as he’d figured it would. It was the amount of effort it took to trek through the blanket of knee-high snow, the wide sloping hills with jagged black boulders and uneven footing, and weaving in and out of trees following this seemingly random path that Prompto was taking that challenged the prince. He offered no conversation as he walked, which Noctis attributed to the uneasy feeling that permeated between them as Lucians and Niffilian.

“He speaks Lucian pretty well,” Ignis commented as they rested beneath whispering evergreens, when Noctis had suggested, quite vocally, for a break. Prompto easily obliged him, and had pulled away enough paces to give the Lucians time to themselves. He also passed out a leather water flask that Noctis did not have the luxury to turn down. They may have almost drowned, but the hike through the wildlands was quickly sapping his stamina. “Better than you would think for a commoner, but not well enough to belong to the upper echelons. ”

Gladio pressed his back to a trunk and let his gaze slip over to where the blonde and his beast sat quietly, snapping loose twigs between his nervous fingers. “Merchant kid? Or a hunter. They’re not typically bound by any kind of social class, and either of those occupations could have him trading with Lucians on the border.”

Ignis gave Gladio a blithe stare. “During a war?”

Gladio shrugged. “Merchants, no. Hunters, yes. Hunters don’t exactly play by the rules. They respect strength first and everything else second. That, and coin. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the Niff hunters and the Lucian hunters were trading missions and gear, along with language.”

Noctis tossed Prompto a glance. “He doesn’t strike me as a merchant. Doesn’t got anything to sell, doesn’t call me prince, or your highness, despite knowing who I am. He wasn’t afraid to talk over Iggy or tell it to me straight. Hell, I can’t even get the nerves to talk over Iggy… Maybe it’s because I’m Lucian.”

“He’s kind of young, isn’t he?” Gladio mused. “Scrawny.”

Ignis nodded in agreement. “Makes you wonder why he’s out here all alone. I’d say he’s about your age, Noctis.”

Noctis brushed his bangs out of his eyes and watched as Prompto stood again, dusting snow from the backside of his legs and the ends of his cloak. His clothes were sturdy, and meant to protect. Everything from his disheveled hair to his monstrous beast suggested Prompto was used to protecting himself, all the way down to the way he covered himself with every inch of his crimson cloak. His eyes never stopped roaming the trees from their base to their tops, as if danger lurked in every soft blue shadow of the snow. The only thing that didn’t lend to that image was, well… Prompto himself. Noctis had been watching him for a few hours now −how could he not− and had seen the way his hands faltered, how unsure his eyes looked when Prompto inevitably looked back at them. Sometimes, it seemed that Prompto had forgotten that he was leading them, but he always stopped and waited for them to catch up, searching Noctis’s face for some sort of confirmation to continue before he picked up on his wild trail once more.

He seemed air-headed, somewhat nervous around them, and Noctis couldn’t help but think that Prompto had something more to say to him every time they locked eyes.

“We should, uh… We should keep going. It’s not much longer till we reach town, Noctis.” Prompto had that look on his face again, where he seemed to be holding his breath and the words he wanted to say with it.

“After you, then, Prompto.” Ignis interjected, as if to remind him that the two retainers were also present.

Prompto nodded, and turned back to his coeurl. Noctis exchanged a knowing glance with his advisor before pulling himself back onto his feet.

After that, the trek wasn’t so difficult. The mountains seemed to slope downward and the river that they followed from the haven cut through and led them down into a shallow valley. It wasn’t long after they crested a small hill that the sight of a town came into view, situated at the crux of a small lake and another mountain. Even from this distance Noctis saw the brick architecture and smoke rising from chimneys, blurring the orange evening sky with the hint of warmth and protection.  The trees thinned out halfway down the valley, and a wide road dusted in fine white powder snaked through the remaining greenery in lazy swoops before sneaking beneath an arched gate.

Noctis saw dark shadows patrolling on the top of the gate and at the edges of the wall that encircled the town. Moments later, crystal lamps flickered to light and cast a wide, preemptive glow on the surrounding landscape. Daemons would be hard pressed to materialize so close outside, and Noctis was nervous to try to appear _inside_. A town that big… surely someone would recognize him; his hood may not do the job.

Prompto seemed to read his mind, or at least the look on his face, eyes narrow and searching as Noctis stopped beside him on the hilltop. “There’s a haven a few minutes north. If you’re worried you can wait there for me to return with the supplies.”

Noctis was prepared to answer, but Gladio growled one out for him in his place. “Absolutely not. We’ll take our chances inside.”

Prompto flinched back, shrinking a little. Noctis gave Gladio a harsh look, but all he received in response was an unwavering glower. They were both thinking the same thing, but Gladio wasn’t quite being subtle about their suspicions. “What he meant was, we’ll set up in an inn.”

Prompto nodded, seemingly none the wiser of their reasonings. It just seemed he was more taken aback by Gladio’s domineering presence. “There’s a cheap one close to the gate. I’ll take you there first. I’ve got to do something before we gather supplies.”

An errand, huh? The three Lucians did their best to keep their faces straight and unassuming as Prompto and his coeurl carved a way through the snow to the road, where finally Noctis didn’t have to walk with his knees halfway to his chest on every stride. From there, the way to town was easy. Upon arrival to the arched gateway, Noctis saw that the guards were less militarily dressed than he’d originally expected them to be, instead going for lose and muted browns with leather armors that looked more handmade and individual than anything uniform. They waved to Prompto as they passed under the arch, and he waved back a little shyly, but let them pass without much more than a second glance.

In fact, this somewhat large city seemed to be completely devoid of a military presence between the dark cobblestones and the bright red of the crystal sconces. Noctis saw no military banners, and only a few purple silks hanging for the Niffilian royal house occasionally on a street lamp or sign here or there. There were plenty of people about, though, and from their place in the main street Noctis could see a large courtyard ahead of them with stalls around a central decorative fountain featuring the goddess Leviathan. The night market was in full swing, it seemed. This noisy scene was only the foreground chaos to the serene image of perhaps the tallest, and only off-colored building in the city; a temple of some sort with snow-white steeples and purple stained glass walls that reached up into the darkening sky like a white crown.

[](https://imgbb.com/)

Prompto was leading them to a side alley, however, so Noctis could only look for a few seconds.

It seemed they had the answer for the strange lack of military presence when they arrived at the tavern door, where a sign reading _Meldacio Chapel_  hung just above Gladio’s head. They were in a city of hunters. The military would be hard pressed to have any sort of presence here the people would recognize. Doubts on Prompto’s profession cleared up simultaneously, too.

Below, the coeurl licked her lips, and Noctis, briefly, thought that perhaps, yes, a coeurl was all a man needed to survive.

Inside, the sounds of a bar in the full swing of dinnertime gave Noctis great pause, and Prompto pulled away as well, a beast of confusion and unease trailing in his wake.

“I’ll be back soon. I was out doing work when I met you all, so I need to turn in my hunt. Just tell the lady behind the bar I sent you and she should set you up with no complaint.” Prompto offered a weak smile, before turning back towards the main street once more. “Oh, and don’t eat the ram pie. It’s,” Prompto looked like he was searching for the right word in Lucian, but instead gave up and just stuck out his tongue in disgust before immediately disappearing around the corner of a building.

They stood there for a moment, and collectively contemplated what Prompto had told them.

Gladio looked down at Noctis. “He’s going to turn us in.”

Ignis pushed the bridge of his glasses up further onto his face, the glare on the lenses hiding the cold expression in his eyes. “Should we leave before they catch us? I don’t know if I can trust him just because he says he’s Lady Lunafreya’s messenger. Any Niffilian can say that. Everyone knows of her powers... and I’m sure any bounty on us is quite attractive for a young, scrawny hunter...”

Noctis leaned his head on the door to the poorly-named tavern, fighting sheer exhaustion with will alone. Part of him wanted to get a room at the tavern and sleep, and should the hunters come to take him for a bounty at least he’d get a little bit of rest before his inevitable demise.

_Trust in him, too._

Noctis let out a frustrated growl.

“We’ll follow him. If it looks like he’s going to turn us in then…we’ll run. But I think… I think he really is helping us for Luna.”

His retainers exchanged cautionary glances, but nodded.

So, they turned their backs to the tavern, and very carefully, followed Prompto through the city of Meldacio.

 


	9. A Guilty Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmm Its not like I really tried to hide it.

Prompto’s first stop was to the Hunter’s HQ. It was an imposing building carved into the ramparts of an old, small castle that had been abandoned for some time. Meldacio had chosen to grow and build through the castle grounds rather than to repurpose it, so half of it’s long hallways collected dust and snow through broken walls while the other half saw to housing the nomadic hunters that passed through between hunts.

He used to have to pull out his dog tags to gain entrance at the front door, when he barely reached the boss’s knee and no one believed that a boy his age was collecting the heads of hydras, but after years of repeated appearances they just waved him through. When he’d first started out, he’d spent many nights crying in these same inhospitable halls while other children slept in comfortable beds, no less safer for the work Prompto did for them.

In the main foyer four tall boards formed a square, where screens flashed with the memories of beasts and criminals, conjured into images with the help of magic. Part of the foyer roof had broken in a long time ago, and fresh snow had piled up and sent the fabric covering the break crashing to the floor for the day, a sight Prompto had seen many a time. Why the hunters ever bothered to replace it every time was a mystery. Prompto was more than a little fond of the dark sky and the smattering of starlight that peered down on them. For a brief moment, a streak of crystalline blue flashed across the view, and Prompto made a small wish in his heart on the shooting star for the well-being of the hunters who hadn’t made it back from their adventures yet.

A man, Dave, sat behind a table with his boots propped up on the corner, his arms tattooed down to the wrists with the names of hunters he’d lost. He sat beneath the screens keeping track of who went on what quest, and Prompto made a beeline for him, the summoning stones he’d found in the cavern in hand.

“Oh, look what the uh… the cat dragged in,” Dave eyed Parti, and his dog lifted his head slowly from his place on the floor, before returning to his nap.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Prompto returned back, and Dave clapped his shoulders.

“Always lookin’ out for noisy brats. I was worried Sania’d sent ya to yer bitter end when she told me about the, uh, frog.” Dave laughed and crossed his arms, eyes flickering down to Prompto’s hands. “What’ve ya brought me?”

“Nothing too special.” Prompto replied, laying out all the summoning stones he’d found in the Tomb of the Courtesan. All but the Zu. The Zu he kept for himself, too powerful to let into the hands of just anyone. “I think some of the children may have trouble with the feral crocodile I found, but who knows? If one of them has the spirit to command it…” Prompto shrugged.

Dave nodded and scooped up the statuettes. “I’ll make sure to test them as usual. With Sania’s nasty beasts nearby juuuuuust in case. Thank you, Argentum. You’ve done us real good again.” Dave reached down and scratched his dog’s ears. “No kid should have to go without a familiar. The damn Besithias got what they deserved for takin’ em.”

“Y-yeah. Just, y’know, doing what I can.” Prompto’s smile flickered for a moment, but it was strong again when Dave returned his gaze up to the papers at the desk with Prompto’s name on it. He scratched something across it with a pen dipped in ink. It was more of a collection of files that had, over the years, grown fat with accomplishment that Prompto thought very little of in the end. Everything he’d done, he did because it was what he had to do, and there were plenty of hunters with records taller than his.

He felt the weight of the Zu statue pressing in on his thoughts. Collecting summon stones wasn’t a necessity. Turning them over to Dave to be redistributed into the hands of the Nifilian people wasn’t a necessity either.

 _Those with the power to act, should act._ A man’s words echoed in his ears. _Those who can fight, should fight._

Prompto accepted a small black bag of coins as payment, a trifle of the true worth of those stones, and the man’s speech finished as a black jacket flashed in Prompto’s mind, the memory still haunting him.

_Those who can protect, should protect._

“Make sure you tell Sania I said hi and I’ll be gettin’ in touch with her. Get some rest, Prom.” Dave beamed up at him as Prom rearranged the guilty crown he wore on his heart, and Prompto grinned back. With a small salute Prompto backpedaled away through the small cluster of hunters. “Will do, Dave. See you later.”

As he stepped out of the castle, the sound of a wine glass being shattered wrenching him to a stop. Prompto looked up only to see another flash of light that he thought was another falling star, but the light was already fading out. Confused, he paused, and realized that a place as crass as the hunter’s HQ wouldn’t have anything so fine as dining table wine glasses, and that he needed to get his head back into the present. Beside him Parti’s ears swiveled in alarm when he suddenly paused, and he rubbed his hand over her face. “No worries. Let’s go see Sania. Then we’ll find those guys and get something to eat, okay?”

Beneath his hands, her purr vibrated her gentle agreement.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Prompto released the breath he’d been holding for what felt like years when he stood under the colored banners of Sania’s shop. The witch’s apothecary faced the main courtyard across from the temple, and the banners, fashioned from ancient and tattered tapestries that held no relevant meaning to today’s history, were stretched out over her front door in a makeshift awning. The ever perpetuating glow from within her store leaked out from below the door and seemed to bleed through the seams of the wood panels.

Above him, on the roof,  a massive scaly tail swung over a stone banister. In the darkness, the familiar was indistinguishable from the shadows, and served well as the guard to the shop after hours. Kero’s huge body was mostly hidden from view and most likely nestled in what Prom knew to be a bed of useless trinkets, of which he himself had contributed once or twice, though the only sign that Sania’s familiar was even aware of his presence was the sudden _swoosh_ of her tail passing over the door to allow him entry.  Every time Prompto came to visit Sania, he irrationally imagined Kero forgetting who he was and locking him out. Nervously, he patted her tail twice, a ritual he’d developed over the years just to prevent that situation from ever happening, before he and Parti slipped inside.

Bells signaled his arrival. Sania was right where she usually was, stuck behind her counter with a book obscuring half of her soft face. The brim of her red hat covered the other half of her face as the gray smoke of her incense swirled around her finger. She wrote numbers and letters in such quick patterns that Prompto’s head spun, before flashing them out of existence. She’d collected a few new ornaments to her shelves, usually bending with the weight of her trade, between glittering elixirs to the fat-bellied cat sculpture supposedly hexed to bring in good luck.

Though, clearly, that was about as believable as Prompto’s skill as a tomb raider, if Sania’s scrunched up expression was anything to go by.

“Oh. It’s you.” She flattened the heavy tomb and pressed her hands over the open face with uttermost reverence, as if caressing holy scripture. Prompto knew it was just mathematics. “I thought you were a paying customer.”

“Aww, don’t be like that! I’ve had a really long day… I brought what you wanted.” Prompto placated and moved to the the two windows framing the door one by one, pulling the heavy fabric into place. The streets were descended in shadows now, but that had never once put Prompto’s nerves to rest before. Even through the curtains the light of the night market burned, despite the thick crowd he’d had to wade through to reach his destination.

Behind him, Sania had perked up, a genuine smile on her lips. “You did? Well don’t just wait for an invitation, my boy! Show me! show me! There’s too much work to be done by your dawdling.” She waved with her hands as if to bring him closer, and with him her long-awaited prize.

“Alright, alright!” Prompto approached the counter and nudged Parti out of the way with his knee. With a few feet between his body and Sania’s front counter, Prompto held his hands out to the open air and took in a painfully deep breath, until his lungs ached from the stretch of it. He closed his eyes.

In the space between his eyebrows he felt power gathering as he searched. The vague impression of his gun’s silhouette hung there for a moment before he mentally went through his extra space, checking each and every item in the span of a breath; a loose bundle of hastily- folded tent cloth, blankets, clothes, matches, a set of dulled knives, a few summoning stones of varying strength he’d never convinced himself to test, and one summoning stone he couldn’t bear to use again right beside the Zu.

  
His mind touched on the stone for a moment too long, in his opinion, before narrowed in on the long, slimy, pink-tinged tongue he’d stored away. It had been too big and too heavy to carry back on his own, and too awkward a shape for Parti. When he opened his eyes again, the tongue was just plopping down onto the cleared area of the counter, the liquid still oozing and dripping over the edges as if he’d shot the tongue off an hour before, and violet shards of light scattered into nothingness across her room, soft and harmless illusions. Whispers of glass ricocheting across the wood panels made him cringe.

Sania’s eyes were alight with devotion to her cause, and Prompto never took it for granted how little she cared about his mysteries. She was the one person he could trust, because she loved research more than the intrigue. Or the bounty that his bloodline could have afforded her.

  
Her hands clapped together a few times before she darted away, disappearing behind a curtain that covered the door to the back half of the building and returning with two shiny glass jars. She hummed to herself as she caught the ooze. “Oh, yes, Prompto, this is perfect. I can make so many salves with this. The baker’s daughter caught a nasty burn while you were gone. Perhaps I can reverse some of the damage with the chilling properties. If my formula is correct then all I’ll need is to carve up this part here and remove the acid stored here in the－”

“I’m sure you’ll do all sorts of wonderful things with this…” he tossed his hands up, “disgusting hunk of meat.”

She barely looked up from her work before responding, “Thank you, Prompto. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy, but I’m in your－” She froze, letting the ooze dribble over her hands as her eyes went milk white in the center, narrowing into slits.

“Sania? What’s－

“There’s someone outside. Someone… someone like you, Prompto.” Prompto realized he was looking at Kero’s eyes, a common ability shared between familiar and master. “He bears an ancient magic like yours and smells of death.”

Prompto moved to the window and drew back the curtains, but saw nothing but Kero’s tail moving out of sight as, above him, her massive body shifted and made the roof groan under her weight.

Prompto went beyond the shop counter and entered the backroom. It connected her living spaces to the front of the shop as well as the stairway that led to the roof. When he ascended it and opened the door to the balcony, he was greeted with the image of the prince of Lucis, who’d only recently been fished from the icy river of death, caught beneath the massive hooked talons of Kero’s feet. She was small, for a jabberwock, but her existence was no less imperious for it. Noctis, for all his composure, looked understandably terrified.

The prince, unaware of Prompto standing behind him on the other end of the building, thrashed. Kero wasn’t baring her teeth or shaking her scales, more or less observing, but Noctis couldn’t have known.

Prompto watched as the prince tossed a small blade behind him and－

Vanished. In a flash of white-blue light, the silhouette of his body remained pinned beneath the jabberwock’s feet, crystals of blue light shattering like shards of glass as her weight crushed it, and beside him the prince reformed, panting and wild with the small dagger in his hand.

Prompto realized with a start that Prince Noctis had been masquerading as a star all night. The starlight at the HQ he'd wished on, and the glass that had fallen in his mind had all been the taletell signs of the crystal's magic being used.

Prompto had been followed. His stomach _dropped_.

He'd had to have been seen! Using the extra space! The prince of Lucis had understandably chosen not to trust him, had followed him, had looked through the windows and seen him pulling a gigantoad's tongue from thin air and pieced it all together. And now he was here to- to-

Noctis’s eyes slid over to his and Prompto flinched, incapable of facing the wrath that he was sure Noctis was going to bring to him. With a slow, and somewhat even tone for a vengeful prince to another, Noctis squeaked out, _“Why does this town have a dragon just sitting on a roof???”_

Prompto opened his eyes and gaped, and saw that Noctis was gazing at him with a mix of fear and amazement. It took him all of ten slow seconds to realize that Noctis hadn’t seen him use the magic. He had closed the curtains.

He hadn’t been exposed.

Slowly, the former Prince of Niflheim lifted up his hand and stuck out his fingers to count. “Three.”

“What?” Noctis’s eyebrows came together.

Prompto cleared his throat. “Sania has _three_ dragons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Devoured; noctis gets lectured on sneaking around.


End file.
